The Adventure at Morton Manor
by Jenz127
Summary: COMPLETE! Holmes and Watson are invited to stay at an old friends for a family Christmas...something Holmes isn't overly excited about. But when tragedy strikes, can Holmes find the killer? Please, please, please Read and Review!
1. An Invitation

**Hey everyone. Suffering from the most awful writers block for 'Unsolved', so am trying to 're-ignite' the creativity by doing something a little different - hope you all like it. Its based (again) on the Granada/Jeremy Brett TV series, but the characters are a little younger than they appear on the television (Holmes is around 31, whilst Watson is about 33/34)**

**Disclaimer - I do not own Sherlock Holmes, Dr Watson or any of the other characters written by the wonderful Sir Conan Doyle. I do however, own all the characters you don't recognise.**

**Chapter 1**

Christmas 1888

Peace reigned in 221B Baker Street in December 1888, much to the annoyance of the consulting detective Mr. Sherlock Holmes, who was completely and utterly bored. In the chair across from him, I sat apparently reading my paper, but every now and again shooting worried glances at Holmes. We had just finished working on a quite remarkable case of a gentleman found murdered had no physical signs of violence on his body, and was apparently in perfect health - apart from being dead, that is. It was a case that had tried, tested and challenged Holmes in every which way possible, and Holmes' tireless efforts had seen the man's young wife, a woman of, as had been stated in the paper 'a dubious moral temperament' sent to jail. Holmes had worked on this singular case for weeks and now as Christmas approached, had nothing to do.

Eventually, Holmes flung down his book with a great exclamation and said "Watson! Will you please stop staring at me as if you think I will run mad at any moment."

"You can't tell me you aren't bored..."

"Bored? Of course I'm bored. Every Christmas it is the same. It seems that criminal element of London has as much sentiment for Christmas and 'good will to all men' as you do."

I said dryly "They probably all go home to stay with their families. I suppose they need a rest before carrying on with their 'occupations' in the New Year."

"And I am left, quite bereft of anything to occupy myself with at least until Twelfth Night"

"Thank you, old man. I am gratified to know that company is so invigorating for you".

Holmes chuckled, and I smiled, relaxing. I studied my old friend. We had been together, living as 'flat-mates' and colleagues for the last 7 years. Holmes had changed little. He was still tall, angular and dark, with slicked back black hair, and grey eyes, pale and clean-shaven, the exact opposite to me, who was shorter, broader and blond, with blue eyes, tanned skin and a moustache. Holmes broke into his reverie with a short burst of laughter. I looked up in surprise. "For some time, you have been asking me for my favoured gift for Christmas, Watson, and I have it! A good, challenging murder will do me just fine."

"I was thinking more of a set of matching handkerchiefs, Holmes" I said laughing.

"Well, I suppose they would be useful too."

I shook my head and returned to my newspaper. Shortly afterwards, the door opened, and in walked Mrs Hudson with a tea-tray and a letter. "The only one today, Mr Holmes. Came in the second post"

"Thank you Mrs Hudson. You are still planning to go and stay with your sister in Edinburgh for Christmas?"

"Yes, Mr Holmes. But I have arranged for the boy to cook your dinner on Christmas day..."

Holmes had been skimming the letter, and let out a great sigh "It seems that we will not be at home on Christmas day, Mrs Hudson, but thank you for your offer."

I looked up in surprise. "We are going somewhere? This is the first I have heard..."

"And I, my dear friend, so do not be irritated."

"We are going to have dinner with Mycroft?"

"Mycroft? My good Watson, have you completely taken leave of your senses? On Christmas Eve, my brother will turn his servants out, and lock all the doors and windows, and spend the day in absolute peace, probably asleep on his chair in the library. He will then rise at three o'clock, absolutely starving, remember that his cook has gone home, and will try to cook for himself. After setting fire to himself at least twice, he will, much to his dismay, have to go into London, and find a restaurant that is open. He will then spend the rest of Christmas in the Diogenes club, not speaking to anyone, and putting his powers to work for the government in mysterious ways, his wonders to perform."

I laughed heartily at this, and Holmes smiled ruefully too. "Then where are we going?"

"Cambridgeshire"

"Cambridgeshire? Why? Do you have a case?"

"No such luck, Watson. We have been invited to take part in a...family Christmas."

"I'm sorry, Holmes, you are making absolutely no sense whatsoever."

"You remember that I told you that my father was a baronet in Yorkshire?"

"Yes." The situation was not becoming much clearer to me, and I was beginning to get annoyed at Holmes' reticence. "For heavens sake, Holmes!"

"When my father went to Cambridge, he met a man named Lord Marcus Throckmorton, the Earl of Ravensmead. They became close friends, and the Earl later became my Godfather. His house is Morton House, near Cambridge."

"He is the man we are to visit?"

"Yes. He has invited both of us to spend Christmas with his family. He apparently invited my brother, but got turned down." He glanced at me and smirked. "So, will you come?"

"It is very kind of your godfather to invite me. Lord knows, it has been a long time since I have attended a family Christmas. I would be delighted. It will also do both of us good to get out of London for a while."

Holmes sighed "Then I will return an answer to him by the end of the day."

"You do not look pleased, Holmes."

"I have never set great store in traditional family Christmases, Watson. Nor in having to be sociable."

"But you will be pleased to see your god father again."

"I do not remember much of him, Watson, to be entirely truthful. I knew one of his sons, also named Marcus, as we were schoolmates. But I cannot say we were ever very good friends."

"You disliked each other?" Holmes shook his head, and changed the subject quickly. It was very rare for him to tell me anything of his past life, and I knew not to press the subject, as much as I wanted to.

"As I remember, Lord Marcus has a rather large family..."

"Have you met his wife?"

"No. She died eleven years ago, in childbirth, I believe. From what I remember, Lord Marcus has seven children, four sons and three daughters."

"Then it will be a jolly Christmas, at least."

"My dear Watson, there is a very fine line between being jolly and being irritating."

Watson laughed "Ah, come on, Holmes. You need to have more Christmas Spirit."

Holmes nodded, and then said, groaning "I will have to go shopping of course."

"Of course."

"It is most inconsiderate."

"What is, Holmes?"

"Having seven children. Especially when you invite people to stay at Christmastime."

"I do not expect that the couple planned their family around the prospect of Mr Sherlock Holmes coming to stay with them for Christmas some years later."

"It seems to me, Watson, that planning of their family did not come into it."

"Holmes!" I said, feigning shock, but unable to hide the chuckle in my voice.

Holmes smiled at me, wrote his reply, and then gave it to Mrs Hudson to send. He then remarked to me "I suppose you, as my Doctor will be pleased by the fact that I will be having a peaceful country Christmas. I very much doubt that anything exciting will happen." But, somewhat rarely, in that, he was wrong.


	2. The Master of Morton Manor

**Thank you to everyone who commented…and for pointing out the typos. Will correct them… Glad you all like the start of the story, I always have problems starting (think I wrote out the first sentence three or four times before I could actually start!) Please keep reviewing!**

**Disclaimer - I do not own Sherlock Holmes or John Watson…or for that matter anyone else in any way famous. I do however, own the inhabitants of Morton Manor.**

**Chapter 2**

23rd December 1888

Two days before Christmas, Holmes and I got in a cab and made the short journey to Euston Railway Station before boarding the train to Cambridge. We both were travelling with trunks and carpet bags, and I had noticed that, rather touchingly, Holmes had bought dolls, chocolates, books and sweet-smelling scents for our hosts. His mood however, did not seem to have improved, and neither had his aversion to anything that even slightly reminded him of Christmas. The railway carriages were full of paper-chains and over decorations, and while I was quite pleased, thinking that they rather livened up the brown compartment, but I am sure I heard Holmes mutter something about "garish" under his breath.

"Oh, come on, Holmes, my dear man, it is almost Christmas…"

"I do not mind Christmas, Watson, it is just the fact that everyone is so…"

"Cheerful?"

Despite himself, Holmes smiled "I suppose I am being rather like one of Mr Dickens' characters. But heavens, Watson! So many bright colours and so much loud music, and with no hint of a violin."

"I suppose the violin might be a little depressing at this time of year. People would naturally be drawn to the happiness of the brass band"

"In my opinion, Watson, there is no art to the blowing of the trumpet, or the trombone, or the oboe. It is the violin which it takes true talent to play."

"My dear Holmes, sometimes your modesty knows no bounds…"

The train made good time, and in a few hours we arrived into Cambridge, disembarked, and then caught a small country steam train to the village of King's Morton in the countryside, the village where Lord Marcus was Lord of the Manor. The train was small, and packed full of people, especially children, who were all excited and enthusiastic about the upcoming Christmas celebrations. Holmes looked a little pained, although he did not seem to mind the laughs and shouts of the children. Twenty minutes later, the train drew into the small country station, and we got off, accompanied by a number of families, who carried brightly coloured wrapped boxes, flowers, boughs of holly and decorations. The station was quite beautiful, and as it was snowing, the countryside terminus seemed even lovelier. We engaged the services of a porter and a trolley and made our way to the station entrance. Scanning the station forecourt, we were met by the sight of a little man with white hair waving at us. I motioned to Holmes and we made our way over "Is that Lord Marcus?" I asked.

"I think, Watson, that Lord Marcus is a good deal too rich to meet his guests personally at the village railway station". We exchanged glances and made our way over to the man.

"Mr Holmes?" said the man, who wore a shabby brown coat and a green hat "Dr Watson?"

"Yes" I said.

"My name is Wilkins, sir. I'm one of the groomsmen. I was sent to collect you. We had better hurry. The weather looks like it is about to take a turn for the worse."

The porter and Wilkins tied our luggage to the back of the carriage and we sat in the passenger seats. "Good Lord, Watson, if we are to have a blizzard, I believe the village will disappear, we are so far from civilisation"

"Come on, cheer up, old man! I think its idyllic."

"You would."

Wilkins started to drive the carriage up through the village, past a small, gothic looking church, full of small snow-covered gravestones, other small country buildings, like a school, shop and a number of houses, and a village green, on which small children were throwing snowballs at each other and building men out of snow. On the wind, I could hear softly sung Christmas Carols emanating from the little church, and my spirits lifted, as they always did at a certain time in the last few days before Christmas. The carriage carried on, through the swirling snow, which was coming down harder and harder.

We reached the outskirts of the village, and came to a large, grey-stone gate house. At the shout of Wilkins, the huge, black iron gates were opened and the carriage carried on, through the extensive grounds of the estate. It was not until we passed a small hamlet of workmen's houses that we saw Morton Manor. Although the house did not deserve such a name - Hall, Palace or Castle may be more appropriate. The house was huge, and for the first time, I felt somewhat far from home. The house was like something out of a gothic tale, with a number of turrets and towers, blue tiled roofs and grey-stone walls. The windows were in the shape of pointed arches, and small rectangles, and the house looked rather like the cathedral at Wells or Canterbury. Perhaps most off-putting were the stone gargoyles and statues which were built into the walls. Perhaps during the summer, the house looked lovely, but at winter-time, when it was snowing and the skies were dark, it looked a little intimidating.

"Not very cheerful, is it Watson?" asked Holmes, as if reading my thoughts.

"I can't say it is Holmes. It's magnificent, but I can't say that cheerful is the first word which springs to mind."

"I hope you realise, Watson that it is your fault we are here…if it had been left up to me, we would have stayed at Baker Street…"

"…And faced the terrors of having to fend for ourselves, without Mrs Hudson."

Holmes smiled, and we stepped out of the carriage, looking around, awestruck at the sheer size of the house. "Watson, I hope they give us a map, or it will take us three hours to come down for dinner."

I grinned, and looked across at the large dark wooden door, which opened. Out came three footmen, who took our luggage, and a tall, thin, grey-haired older man, who ordered them about with a stronger voice than his appearance suggested. "My name is Trevelyann" he said "I am the butler. If you will come this way, gentlemen, Lord Throckmorton asked me to bring you straight to him."

We nodded, and were led into the house. Inside, the house was quite different to the outside. It was well lit, with roaring log fires and gas lamps. The house was decorated for Christmas, including a large Christmas Tree in the Entrance Hall. But there was something that seemed odd. The house, Holmes had said, was the home of children. But there was no noise, apart from the sound of feet on stone floors. I looked around, unsettled. There was an atmosphere in this house. There should be laughter, excited cries, screams and shouts. Instead, sheer nothingness.

We walked through the house, up a flight of stairs, and entered a room. The butler walked to the other side of that room and knocked twice on the door "Come in!" a voice shouted, and we entered.

Never has a man struck me as more suitable for his house than Lord Marcus. He seemed the very epitomy of the gothic Lord. Pale skin, even paler than Holmes', as if starved of sunlight, a black beard and moustache, with not a hint of grey, and piercing blue eyes. He was a massive man, who, at 6'5'' at least, stood a couple of inches taller even than Holmes. He was broader than Holmes, muscular, and was wearing a black suit, and a dark red cravat. There was something almost terrifying about his presence, and I had to force myself not to shrink away, such were the feelings of horror which surrounded the man.

"Good evening, Gentlemen" he said, his voice loud and commanding, and somehow eerie in the silent room. "Mr Holmes, you are welcome here" he shook Holmes' hand "as are you, Doctor" he held out his hand to me, and I had to fight the urge to pull away from him.

"Thank you for inviting us, Lord Throckmorton" Holmes said. He did not seem to find Lord Marcus as intimidating as I did, and studied him, as if he were studying a client

"You are welcome. I remembered a promise I made to your father some time back, and have read of your exploits. I would much like to hear of them."

Holmes, always dubious of haring details from his cases, nodded slightly "Yes…"

"Very well. Dinner is served at eight o'clock, and not a minute later. We meet in the sitting room at seven thirty for drinks before hand. You will, I'm sure, meet my family over dinner. If you need directions, ask any member of the staff, and they will show you the way."

There was a knock at the door. "Enter!" shouted Lord Marcus, catching us both off guard, as we jumped. The door opened, and a young, fair-haired girl of about eleven entered. She was small, petite, with curly blond hair, and the biggest blue eyes I have ever seen. She wore a light pink dress, and I was shocked at her demeanour. At a time when little girls should be exited and happy, she looked thoroughly scared and miserable. She entered the room slowly, as if terrified and walked up to face her father. Lord Marcus looked at her and said "Gentlemen, this is my youngest daughter, Lady Katherine Throckmorton, although I believe her brothers and sisters call her Kitty. Would you mind, gentlemen? My daughter has been misbehaving today, and I wish to have a few quiet words with her."

The little girl whimpered, and my first instinct was not to leave her. As I glanced at Holmes, I saw that he too, was transfixed on the faces of Kitty and Lord Marcus. But, he seemed to pull himself away and said "Yes, of course. We will see you at dinner."

I left with him, glancing behind me as I left, my whole soul rebelling at leaving the little girl alone, with her father of all people! We walked down the corridor to meet the butler and were shown to our rooms. I changed for dinner, and went to Holmes' room to find him already changed and sitting on his bed, reading. I went and joined him, sitting opposite him in a armchair, and said "So, what do you think?"

"There is something wrong in this house"

"Lord Marcus?"

"Need you ask? I believe there is danger here."

"We should not have left the little girl"

"Perhaps not. But he is her father. If he is disciplining her there is not much we can do."

"The house looked so charming in the entrance hall."

"Somebody is trying to make the best of a bad situation. There is a great deal of fear in this house, and it is all for the Master."

"It is strange that despite the fact he has seven children, we have only seen one. And isn't the oldest child your age? Surely he could stand up to his father."

"Marcus is shorter than me, from what I remember, and rather a fop. And anyway, every child in this house depends on their father, and I have a feeling he manipulates it. Marcus is married, and he lives here, with his wife and child, as the eldest of the sisters, who lives here with her husband and children. It seems that if you have enough money, and power, and strength, you can bend most people to your will."

"And I was so looking forward to a nice, quiet, country Christmas."

Holmes grimaced "I have a feeling it will be quiet…"

We stopped talking, and listened to the eerie silence. "I was thinking more along the lines of a happy Christmas."

"I have a rather unfortunate feeling that 'happy' is not a word we will use to describe this period, when we leave in a couple of weeks."

"Oh, heavens," I exclaimed. "I wish we'd stayed at Baker Street."


	3. The Family

**Thank you for all the reviews! I've wanted to write a 'gothic' story ever since I did the topic for a part of my degree last year - finally got round to doing it! **

**Disclaimer - I do not own Sherlock Holmes or Dr Watson - but I do own the others!!**

**Ok, this chapter is going to be longer…**

**Bcbdrums: Glad you like the story! Sorry about the occasional slips into modern American language (embarrassing since I'm English, but there you go!)**

**Chapter 3**

Half Past Seven o'clock, 23rd December 1888

At half past seven exactly, Holmes and I started to make our way down to dinner. I cannot say that I was particularly comfortable about having to sit for the entirety of dinner with a man who was so frightening that he even intimidated his children, but I feared the consequences of staying in my room more than I feared having to make conversation with him for a few hours. Holmes, as usual, seemed unaffected by the thought of having to dine with the man. "Holmes?" I said, as we made our way through the countless corridors and up and down staircases in the immense house.

"What is it, Watson?"

"Does Lord Marcus not intimidate you? I cannot think of anything I would less like to do than spend dinner in his company…"

Holmes shook his head "All his bluster and bellow does not affect me, but he does provide an interesting case study"

"Do you see everyone as a case study, Holmes?" I asked, sharply "it seems that you are purposely trying to be flippant about this man."

"Not flippant, Watson. As I said before, there is some great danger lurking in this house. But fear clouds the senses and is altogether a useless emotion. You should cast it from your mind."

"Not all of us are just a brain, Holmes…" I said.

After the eerie quietness of the wing of the house we were staying in, I was somewhat surprised to hear the voices of children approaching us. As we rounded a corner, we were almost knocked off our feet by a veritable influx of children, ranging in ages from a little girl of around two years old, to a young man of about sixteen. This oldest lad was tall for his age, strong and broad-shouldered, with black hair and sharp features. He wore clothing that looked altogether too young for him, and almost identical to the other boys in the group, the youngest of whom looked about three. There was also another boy, who I guessed to be his brother, who looked around twelve or thirteen. He was completely different to his older brother - short and lanky, a rather weak looking boy, with blondish curly hair and rather sorrowful looking eyes. Hiding behind the two older boys were the little girl, Katherine, who I noticed looked at us with utter fear, and three small blond children - two little girls and a boy. The older boy stepped forward "I am very sorry, gentlemen. We should have paid attention to the way we were going."

Holmes smiled, in the soothing way he used when dealing with clients who were women, or were agitated and afraid. "That's quite alright, young man. You have come from the garden, I see."

The boy's expression changed into one of astonishment "But I…I did try to clean them all up, sir…"

"And you have done an admirable job. It is your general air of fatigue and slight breathlessness, as well as the petal of the snowdrop in the youngest child's hair which drew my conclusions."

The boy looked at him in awe. "Who are you…I mean, sir, are you a friend of my fathers?"

"Yes I am. My name is Sherlock Holmes, and this is my friend and colleague, Dr Watson."

The three oldest children gasped, and started clamouring at my friend, asking a quick succession of questions. For a moment, they looked almost like normal children, excited by meeting a man as famous as Holmes. Then, it was like masks were drawn over their features. Their questions died away, and the oldest boy spoke again "Forgive our rudeness, gentlemen, for asking so many questions."

"To ask questions," my friend answered "Is not rudeness, but is the first step to intelligence. If Watson and I were to stop asking questions, we never solve any mysteries. Which brings me to my questions. You know who I am, but I do not know you…"

The boy gasped "I am so sorry, sir. My name is Ralph, sir, Ralph Throckmorton." He gestured at the younger children, starting with his brother, standing next to him. "This is my brother, Jeremy, and my sister, Kitty."

"Yes" I interrupted "We have already met. How are you, child?"

The little girl answered, gravely "I am quite well, sir."

"Are you sure, child?"

Holmes stopped me, shooting a meaningful glance at me "Watson, were you never told how rude it is to interrupt? Please, Ralph, carry on with your introductions. Pay no heed to Watson, who was so rude to as to break in."

"Never seems to stop you…" I muttered, under my breath. Holmes' lips quirked into a quick smile, and Ralph, who studied us for a moment, continued.

"The three youngest are my nieces and nephew. The eldest girl is Cora, my brother Marcus' child, and the littlest children are Peter and Ruth, my sister Jane's children."

"Ah, yes. We must to dinner, otherwise we will be in trouble."

Ralph's face was transformed, just for a minute, into a look of horror "Oh, yes. You must go. Father will be upset if you are late." He shepherded the children into the direction of what must be the nursery, and then looked back at us "Please, sir. You will not tell our father that we talked?"

"No" I said. "We will not. But why would your father mind if we talked to you?"

"It is of no matter", said Ralph, and the children went off.

"In answer to your question, Watson, I believe that Lord Marcus is probably a man of the feeling that children should be seen and not heard. Why else place them in the area of the house furthest away from his sleeping quarters?"

"And in the coldest part of the house. Anyway, why did you not let me question little Kitty further?"

"I have a feeling that those children have been conditioned to hold as much of their feelings in as possible. Your clumsy interrogations would only serve to frighten the child."

"Thank you, Holmes."

"Have you noticed, Watson, that the boy, Ralph, is around sixteen years old, and is still keeping most company - eating, sleeping and socialising - with the little children? And the boy Jeremy. At their stage of life, they should be socialising with both adults and children. By keeping his children immature, then thrusting them head first into the adult world, Lord Marcus is effectively ensuring that his children cling to him for security."

"That is very deep, Holmes."

"What other explanation is there for the fact that the children, even after they marry, stay in their father's house, instead of setting up their own households?"

"I would stay here no longer than I needed to…"

"Exactly my point, Watson. Exactly my point."

We came back into the cheerful looking entrance lobby, and I eyed the decorations. "It seems almost bitter-sweet now, Holmes."

"Indeed, Watson. We could go home, you know," he said, surprising me "back to Baker Street. We could say I have a case."

"As much as I want to, now that I have seen those children, I feel…like they need to be protected. It is Christmas, Holmes! And yet, they look like they have just come from a funeral."

Holmes nodded, then struck off. "Come, Watson. It is twenty to eight already, and I have no wish to be scolded for laxity."

I nodded, noting to myself that Holmes is the last person I would expect to be scolded for anything - indeed, I expect that even at the age of five he was probably old enough to talk himself out of discipline! We went along a sort corridor, and entered the sitting room. The room, like the rest of the house was cheerful enough, with a log fire burning in the corner, brightly upholstered chaises and armchairs, a small golden decorated Christmas tree, and a number of portraits of people up on the walls, including a picture of a man who looked like an older Lord Marcus. The room was decorated in dark green, with dark wooden floors broken up by the addition of Turkish rugs. When we entered, the people who were sitting rose, although their faces were not completely visible in the firelight. The one person who was recognisable was Lord Marcus, who strode over to us. "You are late" he stated, menacingly "I specifically said…"

"Half past the hour, My Lord," Holmes said, smoothly "I am afraid we got a little lost."

"Yes, it is a rather large house…" I said, limply.

Lord Marcus viewed me with distain, and not a little contempt, before sighing, heavily "I suppose that is as good an excuse as any. We are still waiting for the last two members of our dinner party. You will have a drink?"

"Whisky, please" Holmes said, coolly, and I nodded to indicate that I would have one too.

"You will meet my family" Lord Marcus said, demanding, rather than requesting. He turned to the people standing by their chairs near the fire, like a military squadron than a family, I noted. "You know, Mr Holmes, my eldest son, Marcus…"

A man of around Holmes' age and my height, with short sandy-coloured hair, and blue eyes walked forwards, and shook Holmes' hand, and then mine. "It is a pleasure to see you again, Holmes."

"And you, Throckmorton."

"And it is a pleasure to meet you, Dr Watson. I have to admit, I am a admirer of your writings in the Strand. May I introduce my wife, Gwendolyn?" He motioned to his wife, a frail, frightened looking little creature, with white-blond hair, who looked like she would snap under any pressure. "I am afraid she cannot come from the fire. Her health is very bad and…"

"It is no wonder that that girl of yours is a weakling" interjected Lord Marcus "and you've never had a son…" He ignored the strangled whimper from poor Lady Gwendolyn, as her husband went to comfort her, but did not defend her. Lord Marcus turned to the other people in the room. "This is my daughter, Jane Symonds, and her husband, Major Edward." Jane was a dark, handsome woman, of medium height, and plump proportions. Her husband was about as far from an army major as I could imagine, a tiny little man, dwarfed even by his wife, with dark blond hair and a small pencil moustache, that looked like it had tried to grow, but failed. Lord Marcus motioned to the last man standing in the room, a tall, auburn haired gentleman with a more muscular physique than the other men, and somewhat of an arrogant swagger to him. "This is Sir Jonathan Kent, a friend of our family. You have something in common, Mr Holmes. Jonathan too is my godson." Holmes looked as though he would rather have nothing in common with this man at all.

Lord Marcus wondered off, leaving us in the company of Sir Jonathan. "So, you are the famous Mr Holmes," said Sir Jonathan. Something in his tone, his manner and the way that he held himself, made me instantly dislike him. He was as tall as Holmes, and wore expensive clothing, probably from one of the best tailors at Saville Row. He spoke in clipped and honed accent, which was so ridiculously upper class, that I had the impression that he had spent years perfecting it.

"Yes." Holmes said, his eyes narrowing very slightly.

"You are shorter than I imagined, but I suppose the adoring praise you receive from your biographer is likely to exaggerate…"

"I say…" I said, angrily.

"Watson…" Holmes voice came as a warning, but I was still fuming.

"No offence meant, old man" Jonathan said, in a tone which suggested that offence was the first thing he meant. Pleased that he had amply insulted me, he moved on to Holmes. "Of course, I think the field of amateur detecting is, of course, a field of little more than guesswork. There surely can be no brainpower involved…"

"And Sir," Holmes said lightly "What is it that you do?"

"Oh, nothing! I am a man of leisure. Too rich, I'm afraid…"

"Another field, Sir Jonathan, where there is no brainpower involved…but, I suppose idleness is the prerogative of such as you" Holmes stated.

Sir Jonathan's face darkened "What do you mean by that?"

"The prerogative of the wealthy, Sir Jonathan. To use as little is their brains as humanly possible. Come, Watson, let us go and get a drink…"

Holmes strode off, leaving Jonathan staring at him. I followed, chuckling. "Well, Holmes. You certainly told him…"

Holmes nodded "I cannot abide arrogance. After immodesty and vanity, it is one of the worst of sins."

I eyed him quietly and said nothing. We retrieved our drinks and made our way to stand by the fire. I had a suspicion that Marcus wished to talk to his old schoolfellow, but Holmes would have none of it.

All of a sudden, there was the sound of a large verbal explosion from Lord Marcus, as the door opened and two people walked in, although they were far enough from the fire to be largely in shadow. "Where have you been?"

"I'm sorry sir," said the voice of a young man. "Kitty would not settle, and she wished us to go sit with her until she could."

"Could not settle? That girl deserved to be beaten if she would not sleep."

The voice of a young woman said wryly "I hardly think that would serve the purpose…"

"How dare you talk back to me, girl! You will speak only when you are spoken to. You will have no time for a drink. We will have dinner in a few minutes." He turned to us, as the two young people moved into the firelight. "These two are my son, Gregory, and my daughter, Meredith". He walked off, fiercely angry.

Gregory looked after him "We've done it now" he muttered and sighed deeply. He turned to Holmes and myself "I'm sorry, gentlemen. In the general confusion, I don't think we caught your names." Gregory was a fine young man - and the most like his father in looks. Taller than either of us, and perhaps only an inch shorter than his father, he was broad-shouldered and dark haired. Unlike his father, his eyes were somewhat kind, and sparkled with good humour, despite his surroundings.

"My name is Dr Watson," I said, "and this is Mr Holmes."

The girl, Meredith at Gregory's side chuckled dryly "Is there to be a murder? Or has there already been one?" Meredith was an inch or so shorter than me. She was slim, with blond hair and brown eyes, and was about twenty-one, I would guess. Her face was like her sister's - not beautiful perhaps, but handsome, with delicate features. She too, seemed almost unaffected by the presence of her father, and the oppressive atmosphere, but I did note something in her eyes - fear perhaps?

"We are guests of your father's for Christmas," Holmes explained.

"I would have thought," Gregory said his mood changing "that you would have rather a better Christmas at home than here with us." He glanced about "the decorations may be up, but there have not been proper Christmas celebrations here for about twenty years." He grinned, although in the firelight, his expression looked more like a grimace "that was the year father was abroad…"

The four of us looked up as the dinner gong sounded, and started to make our way through the door to the dining room. Holmes started to offer his arm politely to Meredith, but Sir Jonathan came up behind her, and guided her out of the room with him. There was something predatory in that man's actions towards the young woman, as he placed his arms around her, and brushed up against her when pulling out her chair for her to sit down at the dining table. But, from the way that Lord Marcus smiled as he watched Jonathan's actions, I got the feeling that if Meredith were to object, which from the look on her face, she surely did, she would get little help from her father. Jonathan was about to sit next to her, but Holmes saved Meredith from that fate by slipping into the seat Jonathan was about to sit in. "Thank you, Sir Jonathan" he said.

I hid a smile and went to take a seat opposite Holmes and next to Gregory. Meredith shot a quick smile at Holmes "Thank you…" she muttered.

I looked up, and caught the looks on both Jonathan and Lord Marcus' faces. If looks could kill, Holmes would have been lying dead on the floor within a second.


	4. Dinner and it's Aftermath

**Disclaimer - I do not own any of Arthur Conan Doyle's characters (unfortunately!). The Throckmorton family, servants and Sir Jonathan, however are mine.**

**Wow, two chapters up in one day - can you tell that I'm trying to put off doing work?**

**Chapter 4**

23rd December 1888

I cannot say that dinner was a pleasant affair. The presence at the table of not one, but two highly undesirable men, who seemed to have taken, in the last half hour or so, such a dislike to my friend and I, did not serve to make dinner anymore enjoyable. Lord Marcus sat at the head of the table, directing proceedings like a high court judge, every so often involving himself in other people's conversations, and giving his own opinionated views. Not that the dinnertime conversation was anything very impressive. Indeed, most of Lord Marcus' family seemed to confine their thoughts to the weather - the safest thing to talk about in the presence of the family patriarch. "Good Lord, Watson" muttered Holmes to me "I do not think I have been in the midst of such boring conversation since last Lestrade graced us with his presence at the dinner table."

I smiled, but thought better of it when Lord Marcus' attention came to me "You, sir! What so amuses you?"

I floundered, but Holmes came to the rescue, saying "Lord Marcus, we were remarking on the beauty of your home, the warmth of our reception, and the mental stimulation of your family's conversation. It has quite rendered us speechless." I heard Lady Meredith try to suppress her laughter into a handkerchief, which she hastily turned into a cough, on feeling the eyes of her father on her. Sir Gregory, meanwhile, had to excuse himself from the table, as he was turning crimson.

Sitting next to Lord Marcus was his eldest son, and opposite him his wife, who looked absolutely petrified to be sitting in such close proximity to her father-in-law. Every so often, when his father wasn't looking, I noticed Marcus squeezing his wife's hand. She would smile lamely at him, and go back to pushing her food around her plate, unable to eat. Sitting next to Marcus was Major Edward, who looked so tipsy that he was unaware that indeed anything was going on, and opposite him, next to Lady Gwendolyn, was Sir Jonathan. I was on his other side, and was growing quite uncomfortable at the way that he was glaring at me. Opposite me, sat Holmes, who also did not look like he had eaten much, and Meredith, sitting next to Holmes, and Gregory next to me. On the end of the table, and befitting her rank as the eldest sister in the household, sat Jane, who ate in silence, apart from when she made small comments when she was sure her father wasn't watching. Dinner then, was an experience that I am unlikely to forget, although I am certainly sure that Holmes was using the whole situation as a psychological case study.

When they were sure that they were not being overheard by the two great menaces at the table, Meredith and Gregory were, for brief moments, excellent conversationalists. They were both, despite their bounds, well read, and astute. They obviously cared very deeply for their little brothers and sister and their nieces and nephew, as was demonstrated half-way through dinner. At some point the butler came in and whispered something into the ear of Lord Marcus, which seemed to anger him greatly. Flushing red, he said, harshly "Were the children playing outside today, Meredith?"

Meredith looked up and said quietly "Yes, sir, they were."

"And what were they playing?"

"I believe it was cricket…"

"Indeed? Well, one of the brats has broken the window in the library. I will have them beaten until they own up to who did it."

An expression of pain crossed Meredith's face. She looked a little scared, but said "It was not one of the children. It was me. I am afraid I was playing catch with the children and I threw the ball too hard."

Lord Marcus snarled at her "And you didn't tell me? I want you to come and see me after dinner, and we will talk about what you have done."

"Father…"

"Quiet, girl! Or you will spend Christmas in the cellar like young Ralph last year…"

Meredith paled, and she nodded and returned to her dinner. Lord Marcus, meanwhile, returned to his rather one-sided conversation with his eldest son. When he was sure that Lord Marcus was not listening, Gregory leaned across the table and said in a tone that only Holmes and I, and possibly Jane could hear "Did you break the window?"

"What do you think?"

"You will be punished?" I asked, softly.

"Probably. Ah well, wouldn't be Christmas without father beating one of us. I'd rather it was me than one of the little ones."

"He beats you?" said Holmes, quietly. Meredith looked at him, shook her head and, saying nothing, returned to her dinner. Holmes studied her for just a moment, but then also bent his head to finish his dinner.

After dinner, everyone filed out of the room to sit on the seats by the fire. Lord Marcus strode around behind everyone during their conversations, making talking in any great detail impossible. I even found myself stuck for conversation with Holmes and having to resort to commenting on the differences between the weather in London, and the weather in Cambridgeshire. "Dear Lord, man, not you too…If I have to listen to anyone else comment on what nice weather we are having, I will scream…"

"What are you talking about?" Lord Marcus was behind us, and I had not even noticed.

Holmes however, turned around coolly and said "I was just commenting to Watson on how nice the weather is." He turned to Gregory "Tell me, Sir Gregory, is it common for it to snow so much in Cambridgeshire around Christmas? And Lady Meredith" he turned to her, his eyes showing his amusement "What is the summer weather like?"

Just when I thought I would explode with mirth, Jonathan stood up and the room went quiet. "Lord Marcus" he said "I would like to have an audience with Lady Meredith if I may."

Beside us, I heard Meredith inhale loudly "Oh, no please…" she whispered, her voice strained with tears.

"Of course…" said Lord Marcus, smiling nastily at his daughter "That would be fine. And then, the ladies can retire to the library. I hope with the broken window, it will not be too cold in there." Looking at the look of horror on Meredith's face and seeing the shivering Lady Gwendolyn wrapping herself in her husband's jacket, I felt a greater rush of hatred towards him than I had ever thought possible. He looked at Meredith "Well, go…"

Meredith stood reluctantly and nodded. She followed Jonathan out of the room, but I noticed her catch Holmes' eye on her way out. She looked pleadingly at Gregory and us, and then was gone. For ten minutes, we waited. The fires had started to die down, so the servants were called to re-build them. We were served new drinks and the men were offered cigars. I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, a young maid, heavily pregnant, with a tear-streaked face and arms full of firewood. Holmes had noticed her too, and studied her intently. However, I could tell that something else was bothering him, as he seemed singularly distracted.

That something else re-entered the room looking shocked, upset and close to tears. She sat quietly, and I could see that she was shaking. I placed a hand on her arm, but she did not look up. "Meredith" said Lord Marcus. "I suppose Sir Jonathan has asked for your hand in marriage?" Meredith nodded. "And you accepted." Lord Marcus stated, as if it were fact.

Meredith looked up, and said in a small voice "no…"

"No?" Lord Marcus looked at her in disbelief "Sir Jonathan is a family friend. He is rich, influential and powerful, and I like him. Why have you turned him down?"

"Because I don't…like him, that is…"

"And where is Sir Jonathan?"

"He stormed off, sir. I don't know where he went. He said he will speak to you…"

"At which point, I will tell him that you have re-considered and said yes."

"No."

"What?"

"I won't marry him" Lord Marcus advanced on Meredith threateningly and I felt Holmes stiffen in his seat next to me, "Even if you threaten me, I won't…"

"You will, my girl. And I'll see to it…"

He pulled back his hand, as if to strike her, but Holmes stood up, and caught the hand. "Don't touch her. I'm warning you. Go to your office and calm down."

Lord Marcus looked as though he were about to attack Holmes, but I stood, ready to defend my friend. Two against one was too much for him, and he strode off, slamming the door behind him. Meanwhile, Jane had gone to Meredith's side and had taken her hand. "Come, child. Come on Gwendolyn. Let us go to library."

Meredith nodded, and arm in arm with her sister, they walked out, followed by Gwendolyn. When they left, Gregory walked over to the drinks cabinet and poured himself a large sherry. I drank it back in one gulp, and slammed his glass down on the table. "I cannot deal with this! I'm going for a long walk. And I don't know when I'll be back…"

Marcus looked after him, and rubbed his face, looking more like forty than thirty. "I'm going to bed," he said, loudly, and grabbed hold of Major Edward, who had collapsed in a drunken stupor. "I will take him to bed. I hope I can talk with you in the morning, Holmes…" He nodded at Holmes, then at me, and then made his way out of the room, carrying Major Edward with him.

"Now, Watson, that is something to look forward to in the morning, is it not?" he said, dryly. He looked around, then stood, in an inordinately bad mood. "I will see you in the morning, Watson. I am going to my bed, if I can find it. I won't say Happy Christmas. I hope you don't mind."

He walked out, and five minutes later, after finishing my drink, I followed. As I passed the library, I saw that Jane was alone in the room. Gwendolyn and Meredith had obviously decided on an early night. I walked up to my room, and fancied I saw something, once or twice, reflected in the windows, and once in a mirror I walked past. But everything was quiet, and nothing was out of the ordinary. The house was as quiet as the grave. Finding my bed, I changed into a nightshirt, and went over to look out of the window. A figure I recognised as Jonathan was pacing the garden. I watched him for a while, but sleep overcame me, and I fell into bed and asleep.

Christmas Eve

The next morning, I was awoken by the snowy sunshine shining through my window. I woke slowly and changed even more slowly, trying to put off the inevitable agony of breakfast with Lord Marcus. When I was unable to put it off anymore, I made my way downstairs to breakfast. The smell was wonderful - a huge Roast ham sat on the table when I entered, surrounded by plates of sausages, bacon and mushrooms. Holmes was sitting at the table, as usual eating very little and watching other people eat. Marcus and Gwendolyn, Jane and a groggy looking Edward, Gregory and Jonathan also sat at the table. Due to the fact that Lord Marcus was not yet down, conversation was perhaps more interesting this morning. Holmes seemed positively intrigued by Edward's tales of his army days.

We were all tucking into breakfast and did not notice Meredith walk in until she was standing at the table, not saying a word. Holmes noticed her first "Good morning, Lady Meredith" he said, breezily. Meredith was silent, and we all stared at her.

"Sister?" said Gregory tentatively "are you well?"

Meredith looked up, as if seeing us for the first time. "I'm sorry to interrupt your breakfast…" her voice was strange, soft and slightly shaking "but I thought you ought to know. Father has been murdered."


	5. A Murder

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**Disclaimer - Holmes and Watson do not belong to me - otherwise I would be a great deal richer than I am now. The Throckmorton family, servants, and the dastardly Sir Jonathan do however, belong to me.**

**Chapter 5**

December 24th, Morning

There was a sudden hush around the table, as everyone took in the news. Marcus said softly "What…?", his eyes scanning the inhabitants of the room.

Holmes stood, mastering the situation. His eyes gleamed, perhaps with excitement, and he seemed suddenly energised by the turn that the day had taken. He turned first to Lady Meredith "Where is the body?"

"In his study. He was in there last night, working, I believe."

"And it was you who found the body?"

"No. I…I…" Meredith's thoughts seemed to drift away, and she floundered for a moment, before being impatiently ushered on by Holmes. "He was found by one of the maids, Martha. I heard her scream as I was walking to breakfast, and made my way towards it. I found her hysterical, and father…well, dead."

"And you are sure that there is no possibility that he committed suicide?"

"Suicide?" Meredith seemed to recover herself, and smiled dryly "not unless he stabbed himself in the back…"

Gregory stood, and took his sister's hand, guiding her to a seat. Marcus, meanwhile, had exited the room and come back with a glass of brandy, which he handed her. He patted her shoulder encouragingly, and then turned to Holmes "You will investigate this matter?"

"I will."

"Should I call the police?"

Holmes seemed to be considering, and then shook his head. "Your nearest police station is, I believe, some way away. The snow has been falling thick all night. I do not think, even if we called them now, they would be in any rush to come, especially if they knew that Watson and I were here. No, I believe that the police should be sent for the day after tomorrow. We will, however be requiring a couple of rooms to work in, and will, of course, need to carry pistols, just in case the murderer takes it into his - or her - head to dispose of us. You do understand?"

Sir Jonathan started to say something, but was silenced by one look from Marcus. "Of course, Holmes. Anything you need." Marcus seemed transformed since the death of his father. He was suddenly confident, and seemed in control in a way that I had not seen when he was in the presence of his father.

"Thank you," said Holmes, and he turned to me "Watson, will you accompany me to the scene of the crime? Lady Meredith, if you will come with us as well? I need to know if anything has been moved or is missing from the room." Meredith nodded, and stood, following Holmes and I down the corridor.

I came to walk beside her "Are you sure you wish to accompany us, Lady Meredith? This has been a great shock to you…"

Meredith shook her head and smiled at me "I am alright. Do not worry about me. I will be quite well."

I smiled "Good. Holmes is not always very sensitive to people's emotions when he is on a case. You must be prepared to answer his questions…"

"I am…thank you."

We walked to the room in which we had met Lord Throckmorton when we had arrived yesterday. The air seemed chill, and there was the unmistakeable scent of death filling the room. To her credit, Meredith did not shrink from the smell and the atmosphere, but instead made her way to the window. Lord Marcus was sitting in his chair, with his back to the door, at his desk. He still sat upwards, although his shoulders were slumped, and his head lay on the desk. In his back was an ornately handled dagger, and there was a great stream of drying blood running down the back of the chair to the floor. Holmes studied the scene and turned to me. "Well, doctor?"

I stepped forward, and examined the man, before pronouncing my verdict "He has been dead for between seven and nine hours. He was stabbed…"

"Oh, well done, Watson…" said Holmes, sarcastically.

I shot a look at him, before continuing "In the back, between the second and third ribs. This would probably not have been completely fatal, and I would suggest that he swooned and bled to death."

"My feelings exactly, Watson. The murderer had no real understanding of anatomy. The angle of the wound suggests that he - or she crept up on the victim whilst he slept or was hard at work, and carried out the act in one single blow. You see, Watson, that he has made no attempt to turn in the chair." Holmes walked forward, and examined the papers that were lying on the desk, without picking them up. "These papers are business records, accounts and…" he picked up a small book "A pocket book with the names and addresses of several members of parliament in it." He then pulled out his magnifying glass and set to examining the floor, the desk, the chair and the area around the body. Whilst he did so, Marcus walked in. He seemed about to say something, but, seeing Holmes hard at work, he stayed silent, instead walking over to the window to put an arm around his younger sister. Holmes stood, and went over to study the hilt of the dagger. He seemed to mentally note his findings, before turning to Marcus and Meredith. "All your family have been informed of developments?"

"Yes. Jane and Gregory have been speaking to the younger children…"

"Good. I will need to speak to them later, as well as the older members of the family separately and to the maid who found the body."

"Very well, Holmes," said Marcus. "But I think you should know…"

Holmes and I turned to properly look at Marcus. Holmes seemed suddenly excited, and said impatiently "What is it, Marcus?"

"The maid is pregnant. You must be careful with her."

"Is that all?"

Meredith eyed her brother "There have been rumours…"

"Rumours?"

"Meredith…" said Marcus "Holmes does not want to hear about rumours…"

"But Marcus…there is every possibility that they are true."

"Yes. I do want to hear these rumours!" Holmes seemed so eager, that despite my surroundings I almost laughed. His voice and tone was the closest I had heard in this house to an excited child at Christmas.

"There is a rumour, Mr Holmes, that the maid is carrying our father's child." Meredith spoke quickly, and seemed embarrassed to say it. "Our father was a notorious womaniser. Lord knows how many children other than us he has. I have tried to speak to her, but she will not tell me whether he forced himself upon her or not."

Holmes nodded "I think I will speak to the maid first. Where is she?"

"She is down in the servants' dining room. My wife is with her," Marcus said. I looked at him in surprise. That little woman, who looked so delicate a soft wind in the spring would break her, dealing with a hormonal and hysterical young maid?

"Very well," said Holmes. "I would be obliged to you if you would fashion a room in which Watson and I might ask the family members questions. The drawing room, perhaps?"

"I will do it now. Come, Meredith. We will re-join our family." Meredith nodded, and the two walked out of the room, leaving Holmes and I together, both looking at the body.

"What do you see, Holmes?"

"Exactly what you see, Watson…"

"Alright, well, what do you infer from the things you have seen?"

"Not much, Watson, for now. I have however, seen some rather singular things. For example, the handle of this knife…"

"What about it?"

"It is of such a material that would be expected to show visible traces of finger marks. However, the handle has been wiped."

"Wiped?"

"Yes. It is completely clear of any fingerprints. That is rather extraordinary, do you not think? From fingerprints, and their position, we would have been able to tell whether the hand was that of a man, woman or child…but the evidence has been destroyed." He pointed to the ground, to the pool of blood on the floor. "Do you see anything strange?"

"Why yes! There is a small clear area in that pool of blood."

"Exactly. A hole, for want of a better world. Until recently, something, a button or cufflink perhaps, was lying in that pool of blood, but it has been removed."

"How do you know it was recent?"

"The blood has not filled in the space. The blood would have to be dried for it not to do that." He looked up "No doubt there is a conspiracy here. One person has committed the murder, and another - or perhaps the same - person has been allowed to remove the evidence. Well, come, Watson. I have gleaned all I can from this room. Now we must question the maid."

"Holmes?"

"Yes?"

"I just thought of it…last night, when I was coming up to bed, I am sure that I heard something…saw something out of the corner of my eye, and once reflected in a mirror."

"Did you see this 'things' features?"

"No."

"Well, then, for this moment, your sightings are of no use to us."

"This is a fine way to spend a Christmas Eve Morning. And I have not even had breakfast yet."

"Are you not spurred on by more than your stomach, Watson? We have a case!"

"Yes Holmes. We have a case. But that does not change the fact that I am hungry."

Holmes looked at me in the manner that a mother may look at an over-demanding child. "Alright, Watson. We will compromise. You can ask for breakfast when we get downstairs to the servant's quarters. What do you think?"

"Sounds wonderful, Holmes."

"I believe, Watson, that this Christmas may be happier than expected for all concerned."

"Except Lord Throckmorton…"

"I cannot say that his death is plaguing me very greatly. Well, come Watson. Onwards!"


	6. The Maid, Martha

**Disclaimer - I do not own Sherlock Holmes or Dr Watson (if I did I would be rich - which I am not!). I do own the inhabitants of Morton Manor. I don't know whether Christmas carols are under copyright, but any I use definitely aren't mine.**

**Thanks for all the lovely reviews. Hope you are all enjoying reading this as much as I am enjoying writing it.**

**Chapter 6**

24th December, Morning

Holmes, invigorated by this sudden case, almost ran through the halls of Morton Manor, myself a few feet behind. Despite the fact that Holmes did not know the house, he still managed to find us our way to the servant's quarters. Travelling down several flights of stairs, we found ourselves walking along a beige-coloured, sparsely-decorated corridor. There was the soft sound of sobbing echoing around the corridor, and Holmes led on, until we reached the small dining room. It had only a few pieces of furniture inside - a long table that would seat at least fifteen, a number of mis-matched chairs, a light-coloured sideboard filled with plates, mostly chipped, but of every colour and description imaginable, and a small, rather brown Christmas Tree, decorated with a few brightly coloured ribbons. The tree, however, looked more dead than alive.

Not for the first time, I was struck by how miserly some rich people were to their servants, giving them the bare minimum, because they knew that at least in the countryside, there were only a few jobs to be found. In contrast to upstairs, there were no brightly coloured decorations, or bowls of fruit and sweets scattered around. Were it not for the dead Christmas Tree, it might be said that it was just an ordinary time of the year.

My musings were interrupted by the soft sobbing of the woman in one of the chairs. She was short, and very young, no older than seventeen or eighteen, as well as being at least seven months pregnant. She had short, mousy coloured hair, and her face was red and flushed from shock and crying. Much to my surprise, Lady Gwendolyn held her in her arms as she sobbed bitterly, stroking her back and hair, and enveloping her in the blanket that she had been wearing to breakfast. In contrast to the sobbing maid, Gwendolyn looked stronger, more confident, although it had to be noted that she was terrifyingly thin. Both women looked up as we came in, and the maid tried to calm herself, although she did not succeed very well. Holmes sat in the chair opposite, and spoke calmly and soothingly "My dear girl, you must calm yourself. It can be no good for your child. Now, take deep breaths."

The maid tried, but she was still sobbing hard, hysterical and almost hyperventilating. I stepped forward and looked the girl in the eyes. "Martha, I am a Doctor. You will do damage to yourself and your baby if you carry on in this manner." I looked to Gwendolyn, who smiled and motioned that she was ready to do what I asked. "Lady Gwendolyn, would you make a cup of tea for Martha? I think all she needs is a hot drink…" Gwendolyn nodded, and I returned my attentions to my patient. "Now, my dear, I want you to calm yourself. Can you do that for me? We won't ask you any questions until you feel ready. That is right, is it not, Holmes?"

"Of course."

We waited for about thirty minutes with the girl, talking to her gently, making her hot drinks, before I checked her pulse, and pronounced her almost recovered. She was much calmer and although every now and again, her voice cracked with tears, she was now up to asking questions, although I did whisper to Holmes to make sure he was gentle to her.

He sighed, but nodded at me, before turning his attention briefly to Lady Gwendolyn. Before he could open his mouth, she spoke, her voice clear, but strangely delicate "Would you like me to leave, Mr Holmes?"

"If you do not mind, and if Martha is agreeable. She will be quite alright with Watson and myself." Martha nodded, so Gwendolyn stood. "Lady Gwendolyn?" Holmes continued "I will need to talk to the family later…"

"We will be easy to find" said Gwendolyn "It may sound heartless, but we are going to give the children a proper Christmas, despite all this. We'll be in the lounge…"

I smiled at her "Of course. Quite understandable."

Gwendolyn looked at me gratefully and left the room. Holmes nodded, then turned to Martha. "Very well, my dear, we will begin. What is your full name?"

"Martha Litton, Sir."

"And you live here at the Manor? Or are you from the village?"

"I-I-I was, Sir, but my parents threw me out when I found out I was having a baby. Th-They said I'd brought shame on the family…"

Holmes nodded, but changed the subject tactfully, seeing as I did that by asking questions about the girl's family life, we would risk her asking hysterically again. "And how long is it until the birth?"

"The doctor says a month, Sir."

Holmes nodded, and said "It must have been a terrible shock to you…finding Lord Throckmorton's body…"

"Yes…"

I spoke up. "If it's not too traumatic, will you tell us what happened?" Holmes shot a look at me, but then smiled quickly, and turned back to the girl.

"Yes, sir. I was just taking the breakfast tea round…ever since I…found that I was having a baby, I've just been taking Lord Throckmorton a cup…on his…insistence, every morning. The butler told me that he thought he might be in the office, so I took his tea to him there. I…found the door unlocked…and went in…there was so much blood! Oh, Lord!" She started to sob, but then pulled herself together and continued "I screamed, and Lady Meredith must have heard me, because…she came running…she saw the body, but she didn't scream or anything…she just stood, staring. She must have noticed I was upset…because she pulled me out of the room, and sat me in a chair…she went back in for a minute…then she called Mr Trevelyann, who took me down here, and she went off to the family…"

"Lady Meredith was alone in the room?" I asked.

"For a moment. But when we were walking away, I swear I saw someone else go into the room…I don't know who it was…just a shadow…"

Holmes nodded, then said quietly, "We have heard certain rumours…about the father of your child…"

Martha looked at him, then bit her lip, as if deciding on what to tell us. "I-I-" she stuttered "they are true…it's all true…" Her voice broke again, and Holmes leaned across and gently took her hand, patting it lightly, a gesture which demonstrated that perhaps Sherlock Holmes was not all brain at all.

Quietly, he said "The child is Lord Throckmorton's?"

"Yes. I-I…he was so nice to me to begin with, but then he…he…started to look at me…and he told me I was beautiful…but he would sack me…I wouldn't get another job if he gave me a bad reference… Then, when I found out abut the child…I told him, and he said I wasn't to tell anyone…called me names…said he wouldn't pay for the child…and said if I wanted my job and to live here when my parents threw me out…I'd have to work without pay…" She dissolved into sobs. I found myself clenching my hands into fists. I am absolutely convinced that if I'd heard the pitiful story when Lord Throckmorton was alive, Holmes would have to consider me as much of a suspect as anyone else.

Saying this, however, Holmes looked just as furious. His face darkened, and Martha looked at him, afraid that he was angry with her. He noticed this, which seemed to cool his temper, and he relaxed a little. His voice, when he spoke, however, had a sharp, terse edge to it, "And the family? How have they acted towards you?"

Martha's face cleared a little "They've treated me very well. Lady Meredith, Lady Jane and Lady Gwendolyn are always asking after me, making sure I'm not working too hard and I'm eating properly. Sir Marcus slipped me a little money a few nights ago, and when Sir Gregory saw me walking back from the village one day, he helped me carry my bags. And, once when I was being called names in the village, he scared them away…" I smiled at this. It seemed that, thank heavens, Lord Throckmorton's nature did not run in his family. I felt my respect for all of them growing, especially for Sir Gregory, who was obviously trying to put right his father's deplorable actions towards the girl.

Holmes looked at her closely "In your opinion, Martha, who do you think…"

"I don't know," Martha said forcefully. "But whoever it was I wouldn't blame them in the slightest…"

"You are loyal to them."

"They have all been so good to me. They all deserved a better father than he, and I for one am glad that they are rid of him, sir."

Holmes nodded, but seemed a little distracted. Then he stood "We will leave you now, my dear. Dr Watson, I'm sure, will check on you later."

I nodded, and the girl smiled, her first real smile since we had met "Thank you, Mr Holmes, and thank you, Doctor."

Holmes nodded, and we walked out of the room, through the servant's quarters and up to the main house. All of a sudden, we heard something completely unexpected - Christmas carols!

_Hark! The Herald Angels Sing,_

_Glory to the Newborn King,_

_Peace on Earth and Mercy Mild,_

_God and Sinners reconciled_…

The singing of the carol seemed to have a certain effect on me, and to my embarrassment, I had to turn away as tears pricked my eyes. Pretending I was looking at a rather ornate vase, I stood with my back to Holmes, as the joyful sound of a choir of voices, young and older, rang through the house, as if lifting a spell.

Once I had regained myself, I turned to see Holmes standing, his eyes shut as if lulled by the music. He opened his eyes, regarded me, and smiled "I almost wish I could abandon this case, Watson."

I nodded, listening to the tuneful and beautiful music "Yes. But I suppose justice must be done."

"Justice. Yes. But where is the justice? A family so remarkably good, terrorised for years by that monster. A young girl no older than eighteen made to live in fear and shame because of the actions of a manipulative master, who made everyone bend to his will." He sighed sadly "But you are right. It is my business to investigate the case, and so it must be done. Perhaps it is better that I do it, than some bumbling yokel inspector."

"You are right, Holmes. Have you come to any conclusions?"

Holmes smiled "Deductions, Watson, so far. And questions. For example, what did Lady Meredith do in that room when she was alone? Did anyone enter the room when it was left unguarded? And what is this spectre-like thing that first you, then Martha saw? A dream? A trick of the light? Or something else?"

I walked over to a window. Outside, pacing the garden again, was Sir Jonathan. "I hope it was Sir Jonathan who murdered Lord Marcus. First the father, then the other-zealous suitor for Lady Meredith's hand…I'm sure that would improve everyone's Christmas…"

"Yes. I must say, Watson, if I were disposed to, I could very easily frame Sir Jonathan for something…"

I laughed, then remembered "Good Lord, Holmes! It's near eleven o'clock, and we still have not had a bite to eat…"

"No, no, Watson, that will not do! We must carry on with our interviews - Marcus and Lady Gwendolyn next, I think." He reached over, picked up a large orange and threw it at me. "You will have to make do with that until lunch". He sighed, as the beautiful music continued, "It is a shame, Watson, that we will have to put an end to the carolling with this business. But, I suppose needs must. Come, we shall continue." He turned to me "And if you could ensure that your stomach does not grumble during these interviews, I would be eternally grateful…"


	7. Marcus and Gwendolyn

**Disclaimer - I do not own Sherlock Holmes or John Watson (annoyingly!) I do, however, own the lovely Throckmorton family and servants, and the not-so-lovely Sir Jonathan.**

**Thanks for the reviews! Keep them coming!**

**Chapter 7**

December 24th, Late Morning

We entered the lounge to a rather endearing sight. The family was gathered around the fireplace, the young children making paper chains, the older children, Meredith and Gregory, helping them, and the others sipping glasses of lovely-smelling mulled wine. Everyone was singing Christmas carols, with varying degrees of attention. I had to suppress the urge to go and sit with them, pick up a glass of mulled wine, and join in with the singing. Holmes cleared his throat, and the room went silent, as everything stopped and everyone looked up at us. The older sons and daughters looked guilty, whilst the children looked frightened. Sir Marcus stood, and coughed uncomfortably "Erm…Holmes, we can…explain…it looks bad, heartless…but…"

Holmes looked at him, and for the first time since we had arrived, smiled at him. "That's quite alright, Throckmorton. Believe me, we understand. We have just been talking to Martha…"

"Ah. I see. Would you mind if we discussed this out of earshot of the children?"

"I was going to ask if I could have an audience with you and your wife first…"

"Very well. We have set up the drawing room for you, Mr Holmes. This way, gentlemen" he turned to his wife "Gwendolyn?"

Gwendolyn smiled, took Marcus' hand and we all walked to the drawing room. It was a rather beautiful room, all dark greens and mahogany, with a large table at one end, and two comfortable chairs at one side, and two on the other. On the table was a pot of pencils and fountain pens, a large sheaf of paper and a tiny Christmas tree. I smiled at this effort to make a questioning session more pleasant. Gwendolyn rang for a pot of tea, and four cups and saucers were also brought. When we had settled down, Marcus straightened in his chair "Now, Holmes, please ask your questions. We will of course answer any questions truthfully, and to the best of our ability."

"Thank you, Throckmorton. Now, I am bound to ask where you and your wife were last night. I am sorry if that seems insensitive…"

Did I imagine a quick glance between Marcus and Gwendolyn? "I was asleep in my sitting room" said Gwendolyn. "Marcus was in our bedroom. They have an adjoining door."

Holmes studied her "May I ask why you slept in the sitting room?"

"There is no fire in the bedroom. I was freezing cold last night, after having to sit in the library for so long, and so I had to sleep in front of the fire for warmth."

"So you were not together?" I asked, trying to be as discreet as possible.

"No. I went to bed early last night" said Gwendolyn "After dinner, the next time I saw Marcus was when he woke me this morning."

Holmes nodded "And did either of you leave your rooms last night?"

"No" said Marcus, and Gwendolyn nodded.

Holmes seemed to consider the couple, and then started a new line of questioning "This may be an obvious question, but what did you feel for Lord Throckmorton?"

Marcus rose an eyebrow "Well, my feelings for him as a father were not typical, as you can probably guess."

"Did you hate him?"

"Hate is a strong word. But yes, I suppose hate would cover how I felt about his actions towards my wife, child and siblings. I, as the eldest son, had to endure years of feeling wretched because I couldn't protect them. You don't know the half of how terrible he was. If you want to know, I will tell you. But I warn you, it does not make pleasant listening."

"I am not hear to listen to pleasantries, I am here to listen to the truth."

Marcus nodded. "Very well. When I was born, my father was a man of around twenty-five years old, whilst my mother was only twenty. My mother was forced into marriage with my father when she was but a young girl, and her fears about him were justified when she came to live here. My father was a very angry man, disturbed, unbalanced, frequently violent, abusive, a gambler, drinker and womaniser. When I was born, he seemed to mellow a little, and my mother thought that perhaps fatherhood would be the making of him. But his mood did not last long, and soon he was back to his old ways, except for the fact that he someone new to take out his anger and frustrations on - me. My mother, seeing how he treated me, was not keen on having more children, but my father insisted that he wanted as many children as possible to carry on the Throckmorton name. So five years later, Gregory was born, then three years later, Jane and then two years after, Meredith. My mother, by this time was terrified. My father was now more violent than he had ever been before. Whenever Gregory and I misbehaved, we were horse-whipped and humiliated, whilst the girls were hit with belts, slippers, rulers, anything that came to hand. Soon, I was sent to school - to Eton. It was expected that I would go to Eton, and then a few years after, Gregory would join me. However, I became rather more outspoken and independent during my time at school, and father hated it. He refused to put Gregory in Eton, and instead, the others had a succession of governesses and tutors, none of whom stayed long. All the time, the beatings, violence and abuse got worse…My mother could not stand up for us, as she fell pregnant three more times, with Ralph, then Jeremy and lastly Kitty. Father insisted that I should go to Cambridge, so that I could stay at home. I qualified as a lawyer, met Gwendolyn one day in Cambridge and married her."

He smiled at Gwendolyn, and her face lit up into a rare smile. "What did your father say when you married?" I asked.

"He was not unhappy. He wanted grandchildren, and he was glad that Gwendolyn's family were not badly off. However, he demanded that we go and live with the family here at Morton, or he would disinherit me. Gwendolyn's parents died, leaving little money to her, and so we had no choice…"

I made a few notes on the paper, under the title of 'Sir Marcus and Lady Gwendolyn Throckmorton', but I could feel myself becoming more and more angry, something which I was not a little discomforted by. It was like my hatred for Lord Throckmorton was mounting up. Detestable Man!

"And what of your mother?" asked Holmes.

"Perhaps the saddest story of all. When little Kitty was but one year old, my mother fell down the stairs and broke her neck. I was at university at the time, and Gregory was out on the Estate, but the girls, who were at that point only 14 and 11 years old, and Ralph and Jeremy, who were 6 and 3 years found her at the bottom of the stairs, her neck broken."

"She slipped?" said Holmes.

"Slipped?" Marcus laughed "that's what he said. He didn't mention, of course that they had had a huge argument about the younger boys schooling before hand, and he had actually threatened her. He didn't mention that he was right behind her when she slipped. And he couldn't account for the fact that for years after, Jane, Meredith and Ralph would have nightmares in which they screamed for him not to hurt her, not to kill her. He was a murderer, Mr Holmes. There is no doubt."

"You did not go to the police?" I asked.

"And say what? That my traumatised, underage siblings had been having nightmares about my father pushing my mother down the stairs? It would never have held up in court."

"And you, Lady Gwendolyn?" Holmes said "What were your feelings toward him?"

Gwendolyn shook her head, and her face creased as she burst into tears. Holmes and I looked tactfully away as Marcus tried to comfort his wife. Gwendolyn calmed down, and said "I am ready, Mr Holmes. I am sorry for…"

"There is nothing to be sorry for Lady Gwendolyn" I said.

"Thank you, doctor" Gwendolyn stood up, and rang for a servant. A maid came to the door, and Gwendolyn said something quietly to her. When the maid came back, she brought a framed photograph with her. Gwendolyn passed it to us, and we studied it. It was a picture of the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She was tall, and shapely, with a white wedding dress, and white veil over her light-coloured hair. She carried a bunch of white roses, and was smiling broadly. She looked happy, healthy and vibrant.

Holmes was studying the photograph, and then looked up at Gwendolyn. "It is you" he stated.

I looked up in utter confusion. The lady in the photograph could in no way be the same woman who stood in front of me at that moment - emaciated, tired and unhappy. But then, there was something in the eyes…

"Yes. That is me." said Gwendolyn. "That was my wedding day. About nine years ago."

"What happened?" I asked.

"My father happened," said Marcus darkly.

Gwendolyn surveyed her husband sadly, before reclaiming her picture. "When I married Marcus, I was as I am in that photograph. Young, healthy, strong and not unattractive. Soon after the wedding, both my parents were killed in a boating accident, and it was decided that we would live in Morton Manor. Unlike the others, Lord Throckmorton never touched me, as I would not allow him to. I became a mother figure to those poor children, encouraged the girls, especially little Meredith to read, educate themselves. Lord Throckmorton saw the effect I had on the children, and decided he could not stand for it. So he started to mock me, demoralise me."

"I will never forgive him…" Marcus muttered.

"My health was never good, but it took a turn for the worse at Morton Manor. I had several miscarriages, almost one every year, until I gave birth to my daughter, who is not very hardy herself. After Cora, I had three more miscarriages, before my doctor told me we would have no more children. Lord Throckmorton found my weakness. He taunted me, told me I was weak in not giving Marcus a son. Living in that kind of world, you can see that my looks suffered, and I became more and more frail."

"Have you anymore questions?" asked Marcus, after his wife finished talking. "It's just that I should probably get Gwendolyn to lie down…"

Holmes smiled "Of course. Just one more question. Did either of you go into Lord Marcus' study last night?"

"No."

"No."

"Good. Thank you. I hope you are feeling better soon, Lady Gwendolyn."

"Thank you, Mr Holmes."

Marcus slid his arms around Gwendolyn's shoulders, and gently led her out of the room. When they had gone, the door closed, and I felt able to rise, walking to the other side of the room, and venting my frustration on an antique vase. "Watson!" said Holmes "For heaven's sake calm down! Or we will be left with an extortionate bill for that vase!"

"How can you be so calm?" I said, turning on him angrily, as if he were Lord Throckmorton. Raging, I shouted "How can you sit here so calmly when you see what a monster he was? How badly he treated them all? And Lady Gwendolyn! How he ran her down - destroyed her!"

"Watson…" Holmes' voice was calm and level.

"What?!"

"Sit down."

I took a deep breath and dropped into my chair. "I'm sorry, Holmes. I just…that poor woman. Whoever killed Throckmorton did the world a favour. I wish we could just cover up what has happened…bury him in the family crypt and forget about him…"

Holmes smiled quickly "That is a very good idea, my dear Watson. But this has to be done properly, whether the man is the most despicable in the world, or not. When the family is cleared of this death hanging over them, they can begin to live again."

"He has spoiled their lives."

"He will do so no longer."

"But Holmes…one of them has to be the murderer…"

"Watson…we will deal with that when and if we come to it." He glanced at me, and still perceiving my frustration and distraction, he said "What did you make of the testimony of Sir Marcus and Lady Gwendolyn?"

I tried to regain control, and looked over my notes "They both have no real alibi for last night, but then again, nor has the maid, not properly."

"Anything else?"

"Well, rather unsurprisingly, they both have clear motives for murder…"

"I think you will find that every person in this house has a clear motive for murder."

"I think I have a clear motive for murder…"

"Now, my dear Watson, you are not confessing to anything are you?" Holmes flashed a small smile at me, and I had to laugh. Holmes got up, and walked over to the bell pull, squeezing my shoulder as he went past me. "Now that's more like my Boswell" he said quietly. The maid came to the door, and Holmes smiled at her kindly "Please ask Major Edward and Jane Symonds to come here."

He turned to me and smiled "Now, let us see if anyone else can shed light on the terrible Lord Throckmorton."


	8. Edward and Jane

**Disclaimer - I don't own Holmes and Watson - but yes, I do own the Throckmorton family, and Sir Jonathan.**

**Hi, thank you for reviews and such. Last few chapters have been rather depressing - so I'm going to try and make this chapter rather more amusing, or at least less depressing. Have to say though, if I was at Morton Manor when Lord Marcus was alive, Holmes would have to add me to the rather long list of suspects…**

**Chapter 8**

December 24th, Lunchtime

"Holmes," I said, as we waited for Edward and Jane to join us in the Drawing Room, "Is there any chance I could have something more to eat before we carry on this interrogation?"

"Watson, for heaven's sake! Is all you think about food?"

"Yes, Holmes, it is when I have not eaten in at least twelve hours."

Holmes let out a long, rather annoyed sigh, and said "Well, I suppose I do not want you fainting away on the table just as I am questioning the suspects…"

"Your concern is most gratifying."

"Call one of the servants to bring some food up…"

"Thank you, Holmes." I did as he said, and the food arrived quickly, before even Edward and Jane did. "I wonder where they can be."

Soon after the door opened, and Jane entered, half carrying her husband, who, judging from his rather red face had been on the celebratory mulled wine rather early in the day. Holmes shot an amused glance at me, and I walked forward to help Jane place her rather tipsy husband in a chair. She looked rather embarrassed, but nevertheless used to having to deal with him in this state. He was coherent, just a bit worse for wear, and Holmes seemed to decide that Edward's present condition would be no handicap to him answering our questions.

Jane sat in a chair next to her husband, and smiled at us "My brother tells us that we are to answer any questions you might have, Mr Holmes. We are ready to do so."

"Thank you, Mrs Symonds."

Edward, who I noticed was swaying slightly, as if listening to some invisible band, gave a large nod and said, slurring, "E-sh-xactly Mishter Holmes, we will answer all of your…questions…won't we old girl…"

Jane looked rather embarrassed, but gave a quick smile at me. Holmes, handling himself admirably as usual nodded, and said "Thank you Major Symonds." He started on the questions "Now, I am afraid I must ask you were you were last night…"

"Do you know" said Edward, as he leaned in conspiratorially, and whispered "I don't know…I think I had rather a lot to drink last night, and I can't remember anything…"

I had began to chuckle, but had to turn my laughter into and ill-disguised coughing fit, and hid my face behind a handkerchief. Quietly, Holmes said to me "Watson, if you are going to choke to death, would you mind doing it outside?" I recovered myself and Holmes carried on his questions. "And you Mrs Symonds?"

"I'm afraid I fell asleep in the library until about three in the morning, and then went up to bed…"

"But I was so far gone, do you know, I can't remember it…" interjected Edward.

I bent my head over the paper I was taking notes on and tried my hardest not to laugh. Holmes noticed as he elbowed me in the ribs and shot me a scolding look. "Very well, Major Symonds. May I ask, Sir, where it was that you served in the army?"

"Of course, dear boy…I fought in South Africa at Rorke's Drift in…1879, and then also in India…Not that I remember very much…I was invalided out after an accident with a pistol in 1884, when I returned to England…"

"Ah…" Holmes said "Dr Watson too was invalided out of the army, although I doubt you would call his injuries 'an accident with a pistol'"

"I certainly wouldn't" I muttered.

"It was rather an accident…one of my Corporals shot me in the leg."

"Oh dear…" I said, my voice shaking slightly. I looked over at Jane, and noticed that she also seemed to be trying to hold back from laughter.

"Major Symonds" said Holmes, trying to steer back the conversation to the original point "May I ask your feelings towards your father-in-law?"

Edward seemed to be struggling with his memory "My father-in-law?"

"Lord Throckmorton, my dear…" said Jane softly.

Suddenly seeming to remember, Edward's voice rose confidently "Terrible man, terrible man!…Do you know, he used to call me a drunk? Told me I had no control over my children…shouted at my poor wife when she was pregnant…wouldn't give her an allowance for the children's clothes…insisted that they be educated here…" he stopped "I feel strange…I'm going to have a lie down…excuse me…" Before Holmes could say another word, he strode out, leaving the remaining three of us in rather a bemused silence.

"I'm terribly sorry," said Jane "I'm afraid he has rather a weakness for alcohol…"

"Er…yes…" I said, not wanting to be rude.

"Mrs Symonds" said Holmes, returning to the case in point "Can you tell me your feelings for your father?"

"My father was…as you have probably guessed…not the most pleasant of men. He was cruel, mean and a bully. I suppose though, you could say that I managed to be ignored by him mostly. As a woman, he saw me as relatively unimportant, and due to the fact that unlike Meredith, I have a rather more quiet nature, he did not pay much attention to me. When I was a child, he beat me, although not as often as the others, due to the fact that I kept myself to myself most of the time, and was so afraid of him, I would obey his commands to the letter, whereas the others to some extent would have to be beaten into submission. After my mother died when I was fourteen, I, like Gwendolyn, became almost a mother figure to the younger children, although I could not protect them…"

"And what of your marriage?" I asked.

"My marriage was my only defiance to my father. I met Edward when he once was out riding on the estate, after getting lost. I know that he does not seem a very dashing figure, but as a nineteen year old girl, he seemed to me, as a thirty-four year old war hero, a very good catch. We courted for a while, and one day, I snuck away from the manor and we were married secretly at the local church."

"How did your father receive the news?" I questioned her.

"Well, he was not pleased. He saw it as a direct threat to his control of me, 'the good one' as he used to say. He did, however, let us come and live in the house, although that was more of a curse than any thing else…Father treated Edward horribly, taunted him like he taunted Gwendolyn, because of his small stature and his weakness for drink…He only started to drink heavily when father bullied him…"

"And your children?" asked Holmes "How did he treat them?"

Jane sighed "I should have taken them from this place…but I couldn't…when I was pregnant, father shouted, screamed at me, that I was to have a boy…like that would do any good! When I did have a boy, father calmed down, but the children…he soon started to treat them just as badly as he did us…I wished we could leave…but neither of us had any money, and Edward couldn't work…"

"Will you leave now?" I asked.

"Heaven knows. Not until after Twelfth Night anyway…I intend to make this a Christmas that my children will remember happily."

Holmes nodded "Mrs Symonds, did you enter your father's office last night?"

"No. I knew better than to do that."

"Thank you, Mrs Symonds. Would you please ask Sir Gregory to come and speak to us?"

"Of course. Thank you both for being so kind to my husband and myself. Edward may not seem it, but he's really quite insecure…and despite everything, I do love him…"

Holmes smiled, and the lady left. "Well, Watson, what did you think?"

"Another two people with no real alibi."

"Yes…strange in a house with so many inhabitants…"

"You think there is an underlying reason?"

"I have a feeling that something is being hidden from us…there is somewhat a conspiracy of silence, perhaps."

I felt the strangest need to defend the people of Morton Manor "You are being paranoid, Holmes."

"We shall see."

"It is perhaps perfectly natural…Gwendolyn had to sleep by the fire…Edward was, well, rather…"

"There are many terms we can use for his state, Watson, but for the sake of propriety, we shall call him tipsy."

"A little more than that, perhaps…"

"Watson, you need to be a little more removed from this case. I cannot work on it with you and the family working against me."

I looked at him with some surprise, and then smiled. I reached over and patted his forearm "My dear Holmes, nothing could make me work against you. I confess that I do have a large amount of sympathy with these people, but I assure you, my loyalty to you overrides any feelings I have for them…"

"Thank you Watson." Holmes' voice was quieter, and did I imagine a flash of shame in his eyes?

All of a sudden the door burst open, and Sir Jonathan walked in, followed, shortly after by Sir Gregory, who stood by the door, watching. "Mr Holmes! I will see you now! I will not be kept waiting!"

"You will wait until I am ready to see you, Sir Jonathan, not before."

"I will not be spoken to in such a manner. I wish to see you now, to tell you what I know now. And then I will leave this god-forsaken place, and these weak and feeble minded inhabitants and go home…"

"Thank the Lord for that," said Gregory "We've been trying to get rid of you from ten o'clock this morning."

"Unfortunately," said Holmes "That will be impossible. Sir Jonathan, you cannot and will not leave until this case is settled, or I will be forced to place you under my own custody. Do you understand?"

"I will not stay!" Jonathan shouted.

"Sir Gregory, Watson, would you mind?" We both glanced at each other, and rather happily made our way towards Sir Jonathan.

"Alright! Alright!" said the coward "I will not be handled in such a way."

Holmes smiled and turned to Sir Gregory "Do you mind, Sir, if we call you back in a few minutes?"

"Of course, Mr Holmes," he eyed Jonathan somewhat suspiciously, but also there was an almost worried look in his eyes. "Are you sure you will be alright with him?"

"I believe that we will manage." Holmes said "But thank you for your concern."

Sir Gregory nodded and left the room. Jonathan watched him go before turning to us "Now look here, you two hired snoops. I intend for the both of you to get to the bottom of this case. I have information…I believe I may know who killed Lord Throckmorton…"


	9. Sir Jonathan

**Disclaimer - I do not own Sherlock Holmes or John Watson (but I want to), unfortunately I do own Sir Jonathan.**

**Chapter 9**

24th December, Early Afternoon

I stood up, utterly filled with rage, and was about to give the man a verbal, if not physical thrashing, when Holmes placed a hand on my arm. Shooting a warning look at me, he turned to Jonathan "I am not here to ask for your opinions on this case, Sir Jonathan. I have plenty enough of my own. Now, you will sit in silence until you are talked to. Do you understand me?"

Jonathan looked like he was about to strike Holmes, but instead walked over to stand next to a chair, about to sit down. "Very well, Mr Holmes, but if I were you, I would keep your guard dog…" he looked at me in contempt "under control."

I am not prone to bouts of violence by any means, although I am the first to Holmes' defence when he is insulted. But I was so insulted, so disgusted and so angry at the hated Sir Jonathan, that before Holmes could say another word to me, I had leaped up, covered the distance between myself and Jonathan, and floored him with a well-placed right cross into the man's face, followed by an uppercut into his stomach. The man went down, clutching his face, onto his knees. "Watson!" I heard Holmes shout, but it was like a red mist fell in front of my eyes. I advanced on the man again, but was stopped by the surprisingly powerful hands of Holmes, who grabbed me by the shoulders, and pushed me into a chair. "Watson! Control yourself!"

Jonathan stood up, and Holmes grabbed him too, pushing him into the chair on the opposite side of the desk to which I was sitting. "Attacked! Attacked! I'll have your friend for assault!"

Holmes shot a look at Sir Jonathan "I'm very sorry, Sir Jonathan, but apparently at the precise moment you were 'attacked', I looked away. What a shame." He came to sit next to me, and spoke calmly to me "Watson, please…"

"I'm sorry Holmes," but I would not apologise to Jonathan. In fact, I took some pleasure in the fact that at this moment, his eye was developing a beautifully technicoloured bruise, and had already started to swell.

"Now," said Holmes "You will answer my questions, and then get out. I do not wish to spend any more time with you than necessary." Jonathan gave an almost bestial growl, but said nothing. "Very well, let us begin. Now, where were you on the night that Lord Throckmorton died?"

"What? You can't possibly think that I murdered him! I was the only one in this house who didn't hate him!"

"That" said Holmes "Is probably more a reflection of your folly than the man's good character. I wish to know where you were…"

"I was walking. In the gardens for a while, and then I went to my room, and read a book, before going to sleep. And before you ask, I was not with anyone…although I would have quite liked to have been with that young Meredith…"

To my utter surprise, Holmes' hands under the table clenched into fists. I honestly thought he was going to attack Sir Jonathan, although I was very sure I would not pull him off of the man. When Holmes spoke again, his voice was terse and rather strained. I cannot say that I had ever seen him act in such a way before. "You are not here to make crude remarks about the other suspects. You will answer my questions and nothing else."

Jonathan smiled nastily "Leaping to the lady's defence, Holmes? What would you do if I told you it was she who killed Lord Throckmorton?"

Both Holmes and I fell silent. I broke the silence first "How dare you? You have no right to slander the lady's name! Where is your evidence?"

"My evidence is what I saw with my own eyes. At around one o'clock in the morning I saw a glimpse of Lady Meredith leaving her father's office, when I was on the way to my chamber. She was crying…obviously killing her father was too much for her…"

"And how did you feel about Lord Throckmorton?"

"He was always good to me. Looked after me. I believe he thought me the son he never had…"

"I can believe that…" I muttered, and Holmes shot a look at me.

"He was a clever man, and yes, he had a temper, but doesn't everyone? His weak, childish offspring deserved what they got." He stood. "I have said what I have come here to say. I will go."

He walked out and I followed him, closing the door behind him. Then I turned to Holmes "Dear Lord, Holmes, what an odious man!"

Holmes smiled quickly at me "Yes."

"Poor Lady Meredith, to even have to consider marrying that man! I shall ever feel eternal pity for her." I looked at Holmes "Of course, he was lying about seeing her…"

Holmes glanced up at me, and met my eyes "He was not lying, Watson."

"What? Then she…"

"I do not believe for one moment that she murdered him…"

"Why?"

"Because she was simply in no fit state to."

I studied Holmes closely, but as he was giving nothing away, I questioned him further "What do you mean, Holmes? You saw her?"

"Yes. I did."

"Were you going to tell me?"

Holmes chuckled "Oh, my dear fellow! I did not mean to leave you out, but to be honest, I had completely forgotten the incident until Sir Jonathan mentioned it just now."

"Will you tell me?"

Holmes nodded, but to me, he seemed a little embarrassed "There is not much to tell. I was unable to sleep last night, so I decided to take a short walk. I set off down one of the corridors of this monstrous house, and walked for some time, as I think you have noticed you can do in this house. Anyway, I heard a sobbing sound and rounded a corner to find Lady Meredith in a most pitiable state. It was obvious that she had been beaten and she was crying, hardly able to breathe. As you can imagine, Watson, I had no real idea what to do with the poor child, so I sat with her for a time, in which she was able to calm herself sufficiently to tell me that her father had forced her to accept marriage to Sir Jonathan. I tried my hardest to comfort her, before escorting her back to her room. I should say, Watson, that at that moment Lady Meredith was in no way able to commit murder."

I nodded, and turned away, smiling. You did not have to be the world's foremost mind to deduce some things…

"Watson?" my mind was diverted by Holmes' call of my name.

"Yes?"

"What did you deduce of Jonathan from his appearance?"

"That he is a thoroughly terrible men, and I am glad that I was given the opportunity to give him a small part of the beating he deserves."

Holmes chuckled "So am I, my dear Watson. I must say, I took rather a sadistic pleasure in watching you thrash that man. Of course, I could not let you go too far…"

"Of course…What did you deduce of the man?"

"He has, in the past, done some sort of manual labour, despite his title. Did you see the roughness of his hands? Then there were his clothes. I make a point, Watson, of keeping up to date with fashions, and despite the fact that his clothes were made at Saville Row, some parts of the cut, the buttons, the cuffs, suggest that his garments are not of the latest fashion. And then his hair…"

"In that rather garish shade of auburn…"

"Yes. Most definitely painted."

"Painted?" I could not keep the delight out of my voice.

"There were several stands of grey in the very back of his hair. I think he is actually quite a bit older than he seems. Perhaps forty, forty-five?"

"And what can you suggest from all this?"

"That the man is obsessed with appearances. He is near bankruptcy, has been working on his estate himself to cut down on labour costs, dislikes the fact that he is getting older, and so has taken steps to ensure that he seems a lot younger than he actually is, and…is after a young, rich trophy wife to keep up his charade."

"You think he is poor?"

"Very." I must have looked quite jubilant, because Holmes grinned suddenly "I must say, Watson, it is quite unlike you to rejoice at another's misfortunes."

"Oh, believe me, Holmes, I could rejoice for a great many days at that man's misfortunes."

Holmes chuckled, before standing to ring the bell-pull "I think we should see Sir Gregory now, after we were so rudely interrupted the last time."


	10. Gregory

**Wow, this is turning out to be longer than I thought it would be… **

**Will try to include more Jonathan-beating in other chapters!!**

**Disclaimer - I do not own Sherlock Holmes or John Watson. If I did I would be very much richer than I am at the moment!**

**Chapter 10**

24th December, Early Afternoon

There was a knock at the door, and Sir Gregory entered. He smiled at the two of us, and shook our hands - a rather formal gesture, I thought. "I hope," he said "that Sir Jonathan did not make too much of a nuisance of himself…"

"No." Holmes said, "Not after Watson had finished with him…"

"I thought he looked rather beaten. Well done, Doctor! Believe me, there has been many a time when I have wanted to do just the same to him. Unfortunately, he was rather father's favourite."

"You are not married" I said, "and you have no children. You're obviously clever and well-read. Why could you not leave this place?"

"For the same reason that Meredith never did. We could not leave our brothers and sisters to our father's hatred and actions. We had to stay for them - to do all we could to protect them. But, I am the first to admit that I did not suffer as much as the younger ones did. Meredith, Ralph, Jeremy and Kitty were the ones who bore the brunt of his anger. You see, he got worse as he got older, and by that time, he moved on to emotionally torturing me, rather than physically beating me."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"He took to telling me that if the children died at his hand it would be my fault, reminded me that I had no money, no qualifications, that if I left this house I would be destitute, penniless. You see, due to being educated at home, we have no friends to call on. My mother was an orphan, with no living relatives, and my father's relatives are just as bad as him, if not worse." He smiled at us "As you can probably tell, I have rather a large motive for wanting him dead."

"Did you kill him?" Holmes asked.

I was rather taken aback by Holmes' question, but Gregory smiled "That is a rather forward question, Mr Holmes. Let me put my answer like this - I wished to. I really did. There have been many times when I have considered the best way of killing him."

It seemed to me that Gregory did not really answer the question, but Holmes moved on with the interrogation anyway. "Where were you last night?"

"I went for a walk."

"In the grounds?" I asked.

"In the Rose Garden. It was my mother's favourite place."

"Did you see Sir Jonathan?" Holmes said, curiously.

"No. I made sure I went in the complete opposite direction to the man. I cannot stomach him. His advances to my sister…his sycophancy to my father…his condoning of the treatment of my younger brothers and sisters, and my sibling's children…I could never forgive him that. I tried to have as little to do with him as possible."

Holmes nodded, as did I, quite understanding his feelings. "May I ask about your mother, Sir Gregory?" Holmes said.

"Her name, before she married, was Henrietta Donnelly. She was the third daughter of an Irish peer, although her older siblings had pre-deceased her before she turned eighteen. My grandparents were kind people, but they were deceived in the character of my father, and I believe this is what drove them to their deaths. My mother was a quiet, loving soul, very much in character like Jane. She tried to stop my father, but she couldn't. She didn't deserve to die such a death."

"You are of the opinion that your father murdered her?" I asked.

"As the policemen who came said, I wouldn't know because I was not present. But in my heart, I have always known that he did it. My younger brothers and sisters saw something that day, and I put a lot more stead in their word than in that of my father."

"You have always been close to your brothers and sisters?" I questioned, feeling a great deal of sympathy towards this man who looked so much like his father, but acted so kindly and considerately to his siblings. I saw in his eyes regret and guilt that he could not protect them from their evil father.

"You have to be close if you live somewhere like this," Gregory said "Otherwise there is no hope for you. In our own little ways, we helped each other out when we could. The older children, as you saw, took the blame for the younger's mistakes when we could, we hid each other when father was looking for one of us, nursed each other when he went too far. But…I will leave as soon as I know that they are provided for - even if I have to take the younger ones with me. I won't stay any longer than I have to."

"What will you do?" I said.

"Try to go to university, or get a job…"

I nodded, making a mental note to tell some of the more prosperous business-owners I knew about this man as soon as I returned to London. It was a small thing to do to find him a job.

"What about your father's will?" Holmes said. "Do you have any idea what it said?"

"It will be in his office. I think he would leave the estate to Marcus, but I don't know…"

"He never talked of it?"

"Only when he threatened to disinherit us."

"Do you think he will provide for all of you?" I asked.

"He was a rich man…but he was also mean. I could see him leaving money on condition that we stayed here…or married certain people…"

"You think he would go that far?" I could hardly believe my ears "To get Jonathan to marry Lady Meredith?"

"Further. I take it, Mr Holmes, that you saw the state my sister was in last night?"

"I did."

"I have seen her, and the others far worse." He paused "I would like to thank you, Mr Holmes, for taking care of her. She told me how kind you were to her, and that you got her back to her room safely. I would not have her wondering around the house on her own - especially not with certain people present."

"One more question, Sir Gregory…"

"Of course, Mr Holmes."

"Did you go into your father's office last night?"

"No. I went in there at about three o'clock yesterday afternoon for a book, but I couldn't find it and I left."

"Did your father know you had been there?"

Gregory rose an eyebrow "No. He was very private about his office. He would have no qualms, despite my size in trying to give me a good thrashing if I had."

"Thank you, Sir Gregory."

"That is quite alright, Mr Holmes. I believe that at some point this evening, we are to play some Christmas party games, and then go to the service at midnight. Will you join us?"

I smiled at the look on Holmes' face. He was not the 'Christmas Party Games' kind of fellow, so I answered for him "We would love to join you, Sir Gregory. How kind of you to invite us… Is it not, Holmes?"

"Erm…yes…" Holmes, for once, seemed rather lost for words.

"Are you almost finished?" asked Sir Gregory.

"Almost…I need to ask Lady Meredith some questions, and the children…"

"And do you have any ideas?"

"A number. But I will keep them to myself."

I was rather taken aback by the tone of Holmes' voice and waited for Gregory to leave before saying "for heavens sake, Holmes. The man was only trying to be polite!"

"They are keeping something from me, Watson. Yet another with no alibi. And he would not give me a straight answer to my question…"

"It was rather forthright, Holmes - 'did you kill your father' - he was probably a bit taken aback."

"No. There is something else. They are all trying to cover for someone."

"Do you have any ideas?"

Holmes smiled "Beginnings of ideas…"

"My money is on that cad Sir Jonathan…"

"My dear Watson, you are always so predictable. You always suspect the most unpleasant man of the crime…"

"Not the most unpleasant man…unfortunately there is no possibility of suicide."

"Why not Sir Gregory? Or Lady Meredith?"

I looked at him, carefully "If they did it, I should understand their actions. But I do not believe that you think they did it."

"Well, perhaps we shall know soon enough. Watson, will you ask a passing maid if they will bring Lady Meredith here?"

"Very well, Holmes. But I know one thing…"

"And what is that?"

"You don't want Meredith to have done it…"

Holmes looked at me strangely as I got up, went to the door, and asked the young girl outside to fetch the lady. When I looked back, I could swear that Holmes appeared almost worried, as if I had discovered a secret.


	11. Meredith

**Hope everyone is enjoying this! Have tried to put right some of the glaring anachronisms in the last chapter - should be OK now. **

**Disclaimer - Don't own Sherlock Holmes or John Watson, yada, yada, but the Throckmorton family is mine. Also I don't own 'Frankenstein' (Don't worry the story isn't going off in a really weird tangent…)**

**Chapter 11**

December 24th, Afternoon

I cannot honestly say that Holmes' obvious discomfort did not give me some pleasure. You must understand that living with a man like Holmes for any length of time, a man more reticent and stoic than I have ever met in my life, gives small victories, like my guess that his feelings for Meredith were more complex than he would admit, an added enjoyment. But when Holmes looked at me pleadingly, as if he believed I would broadcast his new-found emotions to all and sundry, I forgot my triumph, sat down next to him, and patted his shoulder. He looked at me, gratefully, and we sat in silence until there was a knock at the door, and Meredith entered. We both rose, and she smiled at us as she walked over to the desk, and took her seat opposite us.

Outwardly the girl, for one so young, looked quite composed and calm, but I saw in her eyes acute embarrassment, in that she would not look Holmes straight in the eye. She was obviously ashamed of her hysterical, if not justified, meeting with him last night. A reader, she had informed me at dinner the night before, of my accounts of his cases, she would doubtless have been mortified after her hysterics in front of a man who is irritated in the extreme by such displays. "Mr Holmes," she said, her voice soft and tense, as if she feared that she would be scolded "I am very sorry for…last night…if I made you uncomfortable, I can only reiterate my apologies. I can assure you that I am not usually…"

Holmes shook his head "Lady Meredith, I was not surprised by your actions, especially when I heard of the circumstances, and my discomfort was my own fault, not yours. I am sorry if I gave the impression of being uneasy…" I smiled. Holmes was, more than likely, terribly uneasy when confronted by the girl sobbing and weeping so hard, but a side I had not seen of him before, innate chivalry, started to come to the fore.

"I hope you are feeling better, Lady Meredith…" I said, quietly.

She turned and smiled "Yes. I am, Doctor, thank you. I am sure you would have diagnosed complete nervous exhaustion on my part last night, but after a rest I am feeling much better."

"Will you have to marry Sir Jonathan?" I asked, and immediately regretted asking the question, as Holmes stiffened in his chair.

If Meredith noticed the effect my words had had on my friend, her tact made sure she said nothing. Instead, she laughed "Nothing in the world could persuade me to marry him. Well done, by the way, Doctor, for your assailment of him. I am sure that he thoroughly deserved it."

Holmes smiled quickly, but by the time Meredith's face had turned back to him, he had schooled his features into a composed half-frown. "Lady Meredith, I need to know your movements last night."

"Of course, Mr Holmes. After dinner, I went into the library for a short time, before escorting Gwendolyn to her bedroom. Afterwards, I went to my own room, and settled down to read a book for a while - Mary Shelley's Frankenstein…have you read it?" She turned to Holmes, and her eyes twinkled for a moment, as if she already knew the answer.

"Bits of it..." Holmes answered.

I laughed "Gothic literature is not really Holmes' passion…"

Meredith grinned "I think you would enjoy it, Mr Holmes - or at least find it an interesting study of human nature…anyway, at half past midnight, my father called me to his room, and I went, arriving as the clock struck quarter to the hour…" she paused, as if remembering something horrible. Unlike before, Holmes did not urge his supect on, but instead waited for a moment, until she was ready to continue her narrative. "I'm sorry, gentlemen…Father was very angry. He demanded that I give him solid reasons for declining Sir Jonathan, and I told him that I could not marry if not for love…my father told me that that was a stupid reason not to marry a man with the standing of Sir Jonathan, and that he and mother had not married for love. I, perhaps unwisely, pointed out that I did not wish the kind of marriage my mother had to endure. I should say he was not best pleased…"

I realised for the first time that the lady was holding her arm rather awkwardly, and stood, walking to her side "If you do not mind…" I said, pointing to her arm, and she nodded. As gently as I could, I rolled up one of the sleeves of her dress. Her arm was badly bruised, and there were several cuts on her forearm. Around her wrists, the skin was red and purple, and the imprints of finger marks were clearly visible. I let out a low hiss, as I imagined the pain the girl must be in. Holmes, meanwhile had stared at the girl's arm for a minute, before rising from his chair abruptly, and moving to stand by the window, looking out. I was more or less sure that he was trying to control the cold fury he felt at the mistreatment of the lady. If she had not been here, I felt sure that he would have taken out his anger and frustration on the furniture. Meredith looked at Holmes, and then me with some confusion. I shot her a look of reassurance, before quietly speaking Holmes' name. He nodded, and turned, his face again a mask of composure, but his eyes steely.

He came to stand next to me, and viewed Lady Meredith's arm "These contusions were made with a belt buckle, I presume…"

"Yes." Meredith said, shortly. She looked at Holmes, and as if to comfort him, she said "It doesn't hurt that much."

Holmes nodded, and I felt my respect for the young lady growing. "What of the punishment for the ball through the window?" I asked.

She smiled ruefully "All forgotten in light of other events, Doctor. Anyway, I believe that his scolding of me was more to humiliate than to threaten."

I patted her shoulder lightly, conscious that she may be wounded there "I will get you some ointment out of my supplies later in the day. It will calm the swelling and bruising. Do you have any larger cuts that would require stitching?"

"None. Thank you…"

Holmes quirked a small smile at me, before turning to face Meredith "You were the last to see your father alive…"

"Yes. I suppose I was."

"Did he seem anxious?"

Meredith gave a short, sharp laugh "No. He was enjoying himself far too much."

Holmes shot a look at her for a moment, and then went back to his questions. But there was something in his grey eyes…admiration? Respect? Or pity? "May I ask about your early life here?"

"It was…father was not an easy man to live with, as you have probably guessed. I spent eighteen years of my life, until father decided to involve me in adult society, in the nursery. For the first eleven, I had my mother…but then…after that Jane and Gwendolyn looked after me. I don't know whether Gwendolyn told you, but it was her influence which gave me the insatiable love of books which I now have. Our nursery was full of fear, as father would make his daily 'rounds' to find out which one of us had been ill-behaved that day. After I left the nursery, I felt disorientated, but I quickly was able to re-adjust to life in an adult world. I was not allowed to see my younger brothers and sister as much as I would have liked too, but I was able to spend more time with Gregory, Jane and Marcus. I…tried to be strong…I couldn't be meek towards him, like Jane, it's not in my nature…he wasn't pleased…but I think being at least a little rebellious is what has kept me sane…" she smiled "Gregory is a very bad influence…"

I smiled at her and asked "And this morning?"

"I was walking down to breakfast, and was heading down the long way…past father's study…when I heard a scream. I entered the room to find poor Martha quite terrified…and father…"

"The maid, Martha," said Holmes "said that you had re-entered the room after she was sat outside…was there any reason for this?"

"I suppose I couldn't believe it. I had to make sure that it was true…I was in a state of shock…"

"Quite understandable", I said, sympathetically.

"Mr Holmes, Dr Watson, my father was an awful man…awful. I am not a person given to being uncharitable, but I will never forgive him…never. He was the very worst of men. My poor brothers and sisters and I had to live with him for as long as thirty-one years…never escaping him…never doing what we wanted…never leaving this house, apart from with his permission. We were not allowed to make childish errors or misbehave in the way children should do, at the risk of being beaten for our misdemeanours. I did not love him in any way…and although it may sound bad if I have to say it in front of a jury, I am not sorry that he is gone. I can only hope that we can recover from his influence."

Holmes was rather impressed, I think, with this speech, and seemed, for a shortest of moments, to lose his train of thought. "Er…I think that is all for now, Lady Meredith. Unless you have anything to ask, Watson."

"One thing. Was it your father's custom to conduct such beatings as this regularly?"

"Very much so. If you could spare a moment, Dr Watson, later in the day, little Kitty's bruises and cuts are worse than mine…"

"Of course, I shall take a look at her…In fact, I believe Holmes would like a word with the children."

"Very well." Meredith rose, and smiled at Holmes "I shall send them in directly."

"Thank you, Lady Meredith." Holmes said. It was quite a surprise to me when he offered her his hand. She shook it, and was I deceived in seeing a 'look' pass between them? Perhaps it was what Holmes would term my romantic nature, but I could swear that she looked at him in a completely different way than she looked at me, or indeed any of the other inhabitants of the house. He has often noted to me that the 'ladies' are my area of expertise rather than his, but, perhaps it _is_ my romantic nature which notes that finding the right woman only has to happen once…

Meredith moved towards the door, released from Holmes' handshake and opened it. She looked back at us, and smiled "Please, gentlemen, remove the 'Lady' from my name. It sounds so formal, and is quite unnecessary, especially since you are our houseguests - and at Christmas too!" she grinned "I'll send the children right along…you want to see all of them…my nieces and nephews as well?"

"I would. Thank you…" Holmes looked after the young woman as she closed the door and left us to our musings. "She is…" Holmes began.

"Exceptional?" I suggested.

Holmes gave a short bark of laughter "I dare-say she is, Watson."

"The poor girl…the more I hear of Lord Throckmorton, the more I wish I had killed him myself."

"Yes. I must admit that on seeing the extent of the young woman's injuries I did feel a wish to do something rather rash…"

"Holmes?"

"Yes."

"What did you take from her statement?"

"She was lying, Watson."

"Lying? How can you…"

"Not in a malicious way, Watson. She _was_ beaten by her father, she did not act her hysterics to me, and she was in terrible fear as to what he would do to her."

"But you say she lied…"

"I flatter myself, Watson, that I have studied people long enough to know when they lie, and when they tell the truth. She did not go into the room to view the body, Watson. I believe she removed something…"

"Poor child…"

I felt nothing but pity for the girl, and for once, Holmes seemed to agree. "Indeed. I do not believe that she is a murderer, Watson. But I do think that she is protecting someone. Her instinct to protect is so strong, that we will have to have solid evidence before presenting our case…"

I felt disappointed "Then it is not Sir Jonathan?"

Holmes laughed, and smiled at me "Maybe it is, Watson. But I have the strongest conviction that it was not him. I do not think Meredith would protect him. But he does know something, and he has committed some crime, although for the moment, I do not know what it is."

"Shame…" I said. "I suppose Meredith's actions make her even more of a admirable figure…"

Holmes shot a warning look at me, and I chuckled. I could never get tired of, for once, being able to good-naturedly tease Sherlock Holmes.


	12. The Children

**Hi everyone - Sorry I've taken a bit longer to update - unfortunately, its getting scarily close to the dreaded exams, so have been trying desperately to revise!**

**Disclaimer - Holmes and Watson belong to Doyle. The inhabitants of Morton Manor belong to me!**

**Chapter 12**

December 24th, Afternoon

"Watson?" I looked up at Holmes' questioning voice and turned to face him.

"Yes, old man?"

"I will need your help…"

I found this a singularly strange statement, and told Holmes as much. "You always have my help, Holmes. What is it?"

"I am not used to holding conversation with children, Watson, apart from the Irregulars. I don't wish to upset them…"

"If you ask me, these children are not likely to be especially sensitive. It may be that you will find it exceedingly hard to extract any information from them. I have seen it in children with overly abusive parents before. They tend to be fairly reticent when it comes to matters pertaining to their families. Talk to them as with any client, and I have an idea that you will glean the maximum information."

Holmes nodded, and smiled "I did not realise that you had made a study of psychology."

"Well, you know, all those nights when you insist on going out alone, and I am left waiting at home, medical bag at the ready…I have to have something to divert me."

"That does not happen _very_ often!" Holmes said, sounding very much like one of the children we would be interviewing in a short time.

"Come now, Holmes. Four times this month already I have had to get the catgut out to stitch you up."

"Ah, yes…but I have made a point of not going out alone on very dangerous cases for some time…"

"Yes. Ever since you got stuck down that sewer, and you had to wait until dawn to be rescued."

"I did not get stuck!" Holmes said, immaturely "It was simply a case of…following a lead, and making a trap…"

"That does not explain why you were brought home stinking to high heaven on the back of the butcher's cart at six o'clock in the morning - or why you did not emerge from your room for almost a day after…"

"You are enjoying this, Watson…" Holmes was glaring at me, but there was somewhat of a twinkle in his eye that told me he was not taking offence at my words.

"Yes." I said "I am…"

We both glanced up as the door opened, and the six children entered, the expressions on their faces rather fearful. In contrast, their clothes were decorated with sprigs of holly, and the youngest children had pieces of paper stuck to them, where they had obviously been making decorations. Holmes looked rather puzzled at this, and not for the first time, I wondered at the kind of childhood Holmes had had. I hastily started towards the spare chairs in the room, realising that there would not be enough for everyone, and considering the possibility of having more chairs sent in, when I heard Holmes' voice calling me.

I turned, and for a split second, thought that he had disappeared into thin air. Then, I realised, much to my surprise, that he had taken a seat, cross-legged on the floor, and the children had sat gathered around him, in a semi-circle. Amused, I took my place on the floor, sitting next to Holmes, although from the creaking in my bones, which Holmes heard and grinned at, I believed it quite unlikely that I would ever get up again.

"Are you quite alright, _old_ man?" he said, innocently.

"Quite, thank you," came my terse reply.

Holmes nodded, and turned back to the children. "I expect that your older brothers and sisters have told you the reason that we have asked you in here?"

"Yes, sir," said Ralph "Marcus and Gregory told us that we are to answer your questions fully, and truthfully and to the best of our ability."

"Good," Holmes said.

"If you find a question too difficult or you do not know the answer, please do not worry yourselves," I said, sympathetic to their inexperience, youth and probably, fear at being called into a room to answer questions from two relative strangers.

"Yes, sir," said Ralph, "thank you, sir."

"And," Holmes added "We do not need you to call us 'sir'. I am Mr. Holmes and this is Dr. Watson…I am not a schoolmaster…"

"You would make a terrible schoolmaster, Holmes." I muttered, and Holmes shot a small smile at me.

"Now," he continued "I need to know where you all were last night…whether you went walking, whether you saw anything suspicious…?"

"Well" Ralph began "I went to bed at about ten o'clock…Kitty needed me to sit with her…and I did not awake until morning. Peter and Ruth went to bed after you saw us, Mr Holmes, and stayed asleep again, until morning. I did not hear them awaken, and I am quite a light sleeper. Kitty was with Meredith and Gregory until they had to leave for dinner, and she went to sleep, as I say, around half past nine. Cora sleeps in the same room, and went to sleep about the same time as Kitty."

"Do you share rooms?" I asked.

"Peter and Ruth share a room, as do Cora and Kitty. I have my own room, adjoining Peter and Ruth's and Jeremy also has his own room."

"And you, Jeremy, when did you go to bed?"

Jeremy, looking frankly terrified at being talked to by the Great Detective said, stammering "I went to bed at nine o'clock. I-I-I did not wake until morning…"

Holmes nodded. "Very well."

Kitty looked up. She was sitting very close to Holmes, almost on his knee, and was staring adoringly into his face. Holmes looked rather uncomfortable at this, but smiled down at her, in what he seemed to think was a reassuring manner, although he actually looked slightly terrified. "I saw you…" Kitty said.

Holmes looked at her in some confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

"I went for a walk. Father does not like me to, but I did anyway…" I smiled at this, seeing within the girl the beginnings of Gregory and Meredith's iron will, "I saw you and Meredith. She was crying, and you were rubbing her shoulders…and saying that everything would be well."

I looked at Holmes, a mixture of amusement and surprise on my face. Holmes saw the look, and cleared his throat before continuing. "Yes…and did you see anyone else, Kitty?"

Kitty looked as though she was about to say something, then stopped "No."

Holmes nodded, and despite the fact he looked like he wanted to ask more questions of her, he stopped himself, and changed the subject "I would like to ask you, children, how you felt about Lord Throckmorton."

Ralph seemed to be formulating a diplomatic reply, but he was cut short by Cora, who said, vehemently "Grandfather was a horrible man, horrible…he hurt me, and he made my mummy cry!"

"Cora!" said Ralph, his eyes widening, but Holmes placed a hand on his arm "It is alright, Ralph. Let her speak. Continue, young lady…"

"He shouted at my daddy, and he burned my teddy bear, because he said I had been naughty…and then he hurt me because I cried…" The little girl sounded as though she would burst into tears again at any moment, so I leaned over and placed a hand on her arm. Rather unexpectedly, the little girl got up and hurled herself into my arms, almost knocking me over, and sobbing loudly.

Ralph made a move to remove her, but I waved him away, stroking the little girl's head, before whispering to Holmes "Perhaps we had better send the little children back to their parents…now she is crying, Peter and Ruth no doubt will too…I do not think we will get anymore…"

"No, Doctor…Good idea…"

I nodded, rather stiffly stood up, still holding the little girl, and outstretched a hand to little Peter "Come on, old boy" I said, quietly "bring your sister, and I will take you back to mummy and daddy." Peter nodded, put one hand in my hand, and gave the other to little Ruth, and we made our way to the door. I opened it and saw that a maid was passing. Giving charge of the children to her, with strict instructions that they were to be taken straight to their parents, I relinquished Peter's hand, and tried to disengage myself from Cora's arms. After almost five minutes of gentle talking from both me and the maid, she let go, and the party walked off, whilst I closed the door behind them.

I went back to Holmes and the three children on the floor, but decided to save my stiff bones and muscles by pulling up a chair. Holmes looked up at this action and turned conspiratorially to the children "You see, children, this is what happens when you get old…"

I snorted, and Holmes smiled, and went back to his questions. He was still rather stiff and formal around the children, but he also seemed to be aware of what to say to charm them and put them at their ease…and mostly that seemed to be making jokes at me. I determined that due to the fact that the children were starting to smile more, I was not really bothered that the focus of Holmes' humour was me.

"Shall we continue to our former question? What did you think of your father?"

"Well…" said Ralph.

"I hated him," said Jeremy, surprising us both with the tone of his voice. During this entire interview, he had said not ten words to us, but this question seemed to enable him to talk "He was always horrible to me. I tried to be good, to learn my lessons, not to talk back, but that never seemed to stop it. He was always telling me that it was wrong to hit girls - and he still did it…Meredith and Kitty and sometimes Jane. I wanted to leave this house when I was old enough…I wanted Gregory and me and Ralph to go exploring, but Gregory told me that you would have to have money to do that and father had it all." He stopped and fell silent.

"Mr Holmes," said Ralph "I wish we could tell you we were sorry for father's death - but we can't - we won't. He was awful to everyone in this house, apart from that idiot Jonathan, and for my part, I am glad he is gone…"

"That will not stop me dreaming of him" a small, quiet voice - Kitty - spoke. Holmes and I glanced at each other and then at the little girl. I believe we both felt sympathy for the poor mite. I still have nightmares from my time in Afghanistan, and I have heard Holmes calling out in his sleep enough to know that he also is visited by terrors in the night. It was of course, inevitable that the little girl would have terrifying dreams about her father - especially since he was as much of a monster in real life as in her dreams. The little girl continued "I dream of him, sometimes…I scream for help and no one can come…"

I shuddered at the little girl's honesty, and found tears forming in my eyes. Turning away, I surreptitiously wiped them away, and tried to fix my face into a smile. It was true. This family would be haunted as much by their father now he was dead as they were when he was alive. Holmes also seemed affected by the girl's words and placed a hand on her curly-haired head, only for a moment, before removing it. "Very well, children. I have nothing more to ask you, except, did you go into your father's office last night or this morning?"

Three firm negatives answered that question and the children got up and walked towards the door. Before they reached it, it was opened by Jane, Gregory and Meredith, who all grinned at their young siblings. "Now, children…" said Gregory "Now that the snow has stopped, what do you say to a snowball fight? Let's see if us boys can beat the girls, eh?"

The children, enlivened by this announcement, cheered and exited the room. Gregory exchanged a look and a word with us, before he was dragged off by the two young men - "Mr Holmes, Dr Watson, dinner is at six o'clock, gentlemen. And then, I believe we are going to have some fun…if these children have not all caught pneumonia by that time. COATS! Children, please!"

Jane followed him, and we walked to the door, where Meredith stood smiling "I have not seen them all so happy before."

"I do not doubt it" said Holmes, smiling at her.

Meredith grinned as she heard her name being called by Kitty "Alright! I will be with you presently." She turned to us "I hope they were good."

"Very." I said "I am afraid it all got a bit much for young Cora."

Meredith smiled "Trevelyann and cook have taken her and the two littlest ones to build men out of snow. I am sure they will be quite appeased…especially if they stopped by the kitchen on the way out to have some of cook's sweets!"

Meredith's name was called again, this time by Gregory "Come on, Meredith!"

Meredith exchanged looks at us "I swear he is more excited about the snow than the children are…ah well, I suppose I am summoned. I will see you at dinner, gentlemen." She turned and run off towards the doors, out into the snow. We heard laughs and screams as the fight got underway, and for the first time, it felt like Christmas.

Holmes seemed to notice my contented smile, because he patted me on the shoulder "Come, Watson. How would your romantic nature like it if we went and sat around the log fire with a glass of mulled wine with the new Lord and Lady Throckmorton?"

"That," I smiled "Is the best idea you have had all day."


	13. Conversations around the Fire

**This is a very odd time of the year to be getting into the Christmas Spirit but I have a Christmas CD on (my housemates think I'm mad!) and am in the mood! Have also bought myself some mulled wine (alcohol-free mind - I don't drink, so heaven knows what the chapter would be like if I decided to drink proper mulled wine!) Bit of a downer having to include Sir Jonathan, but needs must, I suppose.**

**Disclaimer - I do not own Holmes. I do not own Watson. I do not for that matter, own any Christmas related carols. I do however own all of those at Morton Manor.**

**Chapter 13**

December 24th, Late Afternoon

Holmes and I made our way down the corridor towards the lounge. There were screams and shouts coming from the people playing outside, and I found myself grinning from ear to ear in sheer happiness. Every so often, there would come a loud cheer as one of the Throckmorton's managed to hit one of their opponents - "Come on, Gregory, get her!", "Well done, Jane", "For heaven's sake, Ralph" or "No, Meredith, that's cheating!"

We walked away from the front door and I grinned at Holmes "You have to admit, that does sound like fun…"

"No, that sounds like the actions of people who desire to become hypothermic."

"Are you sure I can't tempt you outside?"

"No, Watson. I thought you wanted a seat in front of the fire and a glass of mulled wine. Anyway, from the creaking noises that were coming from your joints and bones in there, I would say that you are rather too old to be running around having snowball fights with those children."

"Thank you, Holmes. I suppose that will not stop you dragging me off on some stupidly dangerous case when we get back to London?"

Holmes let out a short laugh "Of course not! Where would I be without my Boswell?"

"In a hospital more often, more than likely."

Holmes smiled, and we entered the lounge. I was struck by the change that had taken place. The room was full of brightly coloured decorations, holly and fragments of paper, pots of paint, pencils of all different colours, children's toys, lay shattered all over the room. On one of the tables lay seven or eight brightly coloured pictures, obviously drawn by people of all different ages - from unrecognisable jumbles by the youngest children, to proficient pictures of happy families at Christmas by some of the older children, to a picture signed by Jane, a detailed and quite beautiful drawing of Morton Manor. I noted with some amusement a picture done by young Cora of Holmes and I - showing Holmes as a stick-thin caricature, with a huge hawk-shaped nose and a large magnifying glass in one hand, and I as a somewhat…rounder figure, with an enormous and completely false handle-bar moustache. Holmes noticed it too, and smiled mischievously "By heavens, Watson, she's got your likeness well…"

"Thank you. I must say, I think the nose she has given you is rather realistic…"

Holmes shot a look at me, and we walked over to where Gwendolyn and Marcus sat on one of the sofas, gazing into the fire. As we approached, they both looked up and smiled at us. "Holmes! Dr Watson!" said Marcus "Do you need to ask us anything else?"

"Not for now, Throckmorton." Holmes answered "We were wondering whether we could partake of any of that splendid-looking mulled wine?"

"But of course!" said Gwendolyn. She looked over at a maid, who was standing by the door "Elizabeth, would you pour Mr Holmes and Dr Watson some wine?"

The maid curtseyed, poured us some of the wonderful smelling spiced wine, and handed us a cup each. We sat down on armchairs next to the fire. Major Edward, who was sleeping on another armchair roused himself "Hello, young men! And how is your investigation proceeding?"

"Very well, Major" I said.

"Well…this is good fun! Have you guessed the murderer yet?"

"I do not guess, Major," said Holmes, one eyebrow raised.

The major laughed "Very well, my boy. I will have another glass of that mulled wine…"

"Of course, Edward…" said Marcus. He stood and went to the jug holding the wine and winked at me. He took a remarkably long time pouring the drink, and by the time he had finished, Edward had fallen asleep again.

He smiled and re-took his seat next to his wife "He is not a bad man, really. He has a weakness, but then every man does. He has treated my sister with nothing but love and kindness and has sought to protect her, as well as my niece and nephew. I cannot think badly of him for this."

"Perhaps he will be able to overcome his weakness" said Gwendolyn "Now that…he has gone…"

Holmes nodded "Perhaps he will."

"And what will you do?" I asked "After this Christmas is over?"

"I have been presented with father's will. I sent Trevelyann to look for it in father's safe in his bedroom. I know that it seems improper, but I wanted to make our plans…"

"An understandable sentiment…" said Holmes.

"The bulk of the estate, this house, the stables and the grounds and a good deal of money have been left to me. Gregory, Ralph and Jeremy have also been left a sizeable amount - £15,000 each, and Gregory has also been left a house in Exeter. Sir Jonathan…" Marcus' voice changed and he looked rather angry "has been left the sum of £50,000 and our houses in London and Salisbury."

"That hardly seems fair" I said, feeling rather angry that in comparison the odious Sir Jonathan had been left so much, whereas Lord Throckmorton's sons had been left fairly little.

"And your sisters?" asked Holmes. I was surprised somewhat by the concern in his voice, and glanced at him, but only for a second, not wanting to draw attention to him, especially in front of…_her_ brother.

"They have been left a pittance, Mr Holmes. Jane and Edward have been left a house in London, but barely enough money for it's upkeep. Meredith and Kitty have money for dowries, but no where near enough money for an education, or anything that might be useful." His voice rose in frustration. "Father was purposely ensuring that they have nothing! But he does not know me at all if he thinks that I would leave them to a life of grasping husbands and near poverty. We will provide for them - give them all the money they need - I have a great deal - enough to do that."

"And the grandchildren?" I asked.

"Cora has been left a dowry. The will was quite recent, made within the last few months, but there is no provision made for Peter and Ruth. It seems my father wanted my sisters and their families to be poor. But I will not allow it. Until Jane and Meredith and Kitty have someone else to provide for them," he shot a look at Edward "they will be under my protection."

Holmes looked at Marcus with a look perhaps akin to respect. "And you will stay here?"

"I think we will. But I think we will re-decorate…a new leaf, and all that…" he studied Holmes intently. "You did not expect me capable of kindness?"

Holmes stuttered a little, and I was bemused to see him caught so obviously off-guard. "I-I-I did not mean…"

Marcus smiled "When father told me that you were coming here, I decided that I wanted to apologise. When we were at Eton, I was a very angry young man, frustrated at the lack of control I had over my life at home. I am afraid that I allowed my anger and frustration to cloud my judgement. I revelled in the fact that as the prospective Earl of Ravensmead, I was popular. I enjoyed the fact that the other boys in some way looked up to me, and I had friends who were powerful, meant for great things. I did not see in them then the weaknesses of character, their greed and their despicable natures. I was one of the worst, I suppose. The fact that you my father was your godfather made it easier. I told them that your upbringing was in comparison to the rest of ours, humble, and that you had no title. You always seemed like an easy target for our…violence…"

"You do not have to explain…" Holmes' voice was strangely quiet.

"But I do. You have not forgiven me, and I can completely understand why. We were terrible to you. We found, in you, someone we could torment, mock. But you must believe me. I grew up in a climate where my father convinced me that power could only be gained physically. I must be honest with you - I enjoyed belittling you. But I was young, foolish, and now I realise how disgusting I actually was. I am so sorry, old fellow, so sorry…"

Marcus held his head in his hands. Gwendolyn placed her hand on his back and rubbed it, comfortingly. I looked at Holmes. He was staring at Marcus, as if he could not believe what he heard…but then his face changed…is features softened a little and he looked sympathetic. "Throckmorton…I have seen how you grew up…the man your father was."

"I cannot give that as an excuse…"

"I believe you can. Your father treated you worse than an ordinary man would treat an animal. I see now what you were living in. You have apologised. That is enough."

Marcus looked up at Holmes, then rose, picked up the jug and re-filled Holmes' cup. He then placed a hand on Holmes' shoulder, just for a moment, before removing it. "You do not know what that means to me. Ill treating you was the one thing I felt guilty about. I wanted to prove to myself that I was not my father…"

I smiled "Any man who sat for a minute with you, Lord Marcus, could see that you are not the man your father was."

Marcus smiled at me, and went to sit by his wife "Thank you, Doctor. You are as good a man as your biographies of Holmes suggest."

"That," said Holmes, with a quick smile "is completely obvious."

We lapsed into an hour of talking nostalgically, talking of Christmas, family - although I cannot say that Holmes had lost any of his reticence. It was half-past five before there was a sudden influx of noise and the lounge door opened. The sight which met me, I had to say, almost made me burst out laughing. The six youngest Throckmorton siblings looked like they had been in a real battle, but they were grinning from ear to ear. Their faces were dirty, their hair was a mess, and their clothes were wet, covered in half melted snow. "I take it…" said Marcus dryly "that the…battle was a success."

Gregory grinned and saluted "That it was, Captain. Although, I am ashamed to say that the victory was not ours."

"We won!" shouted Kitty exuberantly. "We had almost lost, but then Meredith knocked Gregory down with one shot…!"

"It was very dramatic" said Meredith, pulling a twig and a few leaves out of her hair.

"It was a lucky shot!" said Ralph.

"It was not!" grinned Meredith "It was absolutely perfect. You have been letting me get in too much practice with your cricket balls. Always asking me to come out and play…well now I've taught you!"

Everyone laughed, including Holmes, who was studying Meredith closely, before moving his gaze to the fire again.

"I hope" said Marcus "that you are all planning on smartening up your appearances before you appear at dinner!"

"Come, children…" said Gregory, smiling "His Majesty has spoken. Let us get into some warm clothes for dinner. By the way…" he said, turning back to us "I don't suppose anyone has seen Sir Jonathan?"

"No," said Marcus "I wonder what he is up to?"

"The last time I saw him" said Meredith "He was limping off after Dr Watson managed the one thing we have all wanted to do since…well, forever really."

The door opened and the very man himself entered. He wore evening dress, but I was very glad to see that he had a very nasty looking bruise on his face. Normally, as a Doctor, I would have tended to the injury, but I decided that I would leave him. It did not look too bad. "Good Evening everyone" he said, smiling wickedly. "It is a good evening, is it not. Two new houses…and £50,000!"

"How did you find out about that?" asked Marcus "That information was for my eyes, and my eyes only."

"I have my sources…I am to be a rich man. Richer than you, Gregory."

"You are welcome to the money, Jonathan. I want none of it. Come children…" Gregory led the children out, and Meredith and Jane seemed about to follow him.

"Well, Lady Meredith…it seems that I am perhaps a better match for you now…I have the money, you have the looks. I think you would make a very good wife for me…as long as you learnt to be more polite…"

"I will never marry you!"

Marcus stood "You will cease your filthy advances to my sister, Sir…"

"Ah, but dear Meredith…you will be destitute, and I dare-say you will never get a better match."

I had not noticed Holmes stand up until he stood next to Jonathan. To my delight, he took the man by the scruff of the neck and said threateningly "I am warning you, Sir Jonathan. You will leave this room now, or heaven help me, I will throw you out myself. I have had quite enough of you!" Holmes pulled him, by his collar towards of the lounge door, and pushed him outside.

"How dare you, Holmes! I will make you pay for this!" Sir Jonathan stalked off.

Marcus grinned "A very well done to you, my dear Holmes."

Holmes nodded, then went to stand next to Meredith "Are you quite well?"

"Quite. Thank you, Mr Holmes." Meredith looked up at him, a look of gratitude on her face.

"I would suggest that until Sir Jonathan leaves you do not walk around the house alone."

"Of course." Meredith turned to Jane "Shall we go and get changed?"

Jane nodded and the two ladies walked out. Marcus and Gwendolyn followed, leaving us and Edward, who was snoozing by the fire.

"I must say, Holmes, that was very good."

Holmes smiled quickly, but then said "I warn you Watson, Sir Jonathan is not as much of a buffoon as he might appear. Be wary. Did you bring your revolver?"

"I did as a matter of fact - although I did think this was just going to be a jolly family Christmas..."

"Keep it with you. I will not feel safe until Sir Jonathan is out of this house. He is a dangerous man, I'll wager, and I cannot say that I feel completely at ease. Be careful, Watson."

I smiled, thinking him a little paranoid. Sir Jonathan was a coward and a bully, but nothing more. It would be, however, not the first time that I was proved wrong in my assumptions.


	14. Sir Jonathan acts

**Disclaimer - I do not own Holmes or Watson. They belong to the fabulous Doyle. I do own the inhabitants of Morton Manor, including the horrible Sir Jonathan**

**Chapter 14**

December 24th, Evening

For a day when a murder had been committed, and one of the most odious men I had ever met had come into an enormous inheritance, dinner was a wonderful affair. It seemed hard to believe that less than twenty-four hours earlier, we had been sitting around a table, all but one of us cowed and demoralised by the presence of an evil tormenter. Of course, the meal was made even better by the presence of the children, as well as the lack of Sir Jonathan, who was conspicuous by his absence.

The older Throckmortons, especially Marcus and Gregory, did not hold back in their distain for him, and I have to admit that the meal was improved by the relation of those events in the past in which Sir Jonathan had made an utter fool of himself. One in particular comes to mind in the event of a large ball to celebrate the birthday of Lord Throckmorton. Gregory related to us that Jonathan had been so keen to secure Meredith's hand for one, if not all, of the dances, that he had managed to some how fall into the orchestra, becoming wedged between a very portly man with a huge cello, and the pianoforte. He then proceeded to extract himself from this rather unfortunate position, but had again lost his balance, and had fallen headfirst into a very ostentatious decorative fountain. Having no replacement clothing with him suitable for a ball, he had to borrow a suit from Gregory, which unfortunately was not only too big for him, but also bore a striking resemblance to the suit being worn by the waiters and staff who had been employed for that evening. Sir Jonathan was then obliged to spend the whole ball without Meredith's hand, and instead being asked countless times for drinks. The culmination of the story brought an explosion of laughter from both the family and myself. Even Holmes seemed slightly amused.

Holmes again sat next to Meredith, although Kitty was on his other side, looking rather adoringly at him. I sat opposite Holmes, between Gregory and Ralph, who were both superb company. We sat more or less in the middle of the table, with Marcus at the head of the table, and his wife, the new Lady Throckmorton opposite him. There seemed to be no ill-feeling between Gwendolyn and Jane at Gwendolyn's replacement of Jane as senior lady in the household, and indeed, Jane looked exceedingly pleased to be sitting with her husband and children.

The conversation was stimulating and humorous, and everyone was in a jolly and rather seasonal mood. The meal was sumptuous, with a huge turkey, the remainder of the ham from breakfast, bowls of stuffing, chestnuts, vegetables and exquisite wine served, followed by an excellent and rather splendid plum pudding. Holmes, to my delight, ate well, and had engaged both Meredith and to my surprise Kitty, in conversation. From the laughter emanating from the other side of the table, I guessed the subject to be amusing, and could only hope that Holmes was not talking about me. Although, from the sly glances that he kept shooting at me, I judged that this might be the case.

My only concern at the meal was Meredith. While she talked to Holmes and I, she was vivacious and charming, but when she thought herself unobserved, she seemed melancholy and under some strain. She ate next to nothing, and I am sure I was not deceived in noticing a pallor in the girl's face. Holmes had perhaps noticed it before I because I did fancy that I saw some concern in his face when he viewed her. A couple of times, he said quietly to her "Are you alright, Lady Meredith?"

"I am fine…" Meredith would answer, shooting a disarming smile at Holmes, although I did think, in hindsight, that the smile looked rather false.

All in all, however, the meal was a complete success, and I assigned Meredith's looks and change in demeanour her being in some shock over the change her life had undergone in the past day. By nine o'clock, everyone was well-fed, and our party moved to the lounge. Decks of cards were brought out, and we divided into groups to play different games. I partnered Meredith in a game of Whist, against Gwendolyn and Marcus. Meredith proved a most skilled player, and we won the game thoroughly. Meanwhile, Gregory, Holmes and Edward had taken seats by the fire with glasses of sherry, and were talking earnestly about something. Jane, Ralph, Jeremy and Kitty were playing another card game more suited to the youngsters, while Peter, Ruth and Cora played with some toys on the floor.

We carried on like this for almost an hour, whiling away the time before we had to go to the midnight service at the little church in the village. At about ten o'clock, Gregory tried to engage the group in what he called 'A Christmas Game', which was met with little enthusiasm from anyone. I glanced at Holmes when Gregory proposed the idea, smiling at the look of absolute panic which came over his face. Meredith, who had also been studying Holmes glanced at me, and we grinned at each other. Holmes' relief when the game was called off was most palpable.

After the game of whist was over, Marcus, Gwendolyn, Jane, Meredith and myself went to take seats around the fire, whilst the younger children played. "I wonder," said Marcus "where Jonathan is."

"I don't care" said Gregory "as long as he isn't here."

"It seems strange though. He is not allowed to leave, is he, Mr Holmes?" Meredith asked.

"No. He is not. Though perhaps he has gone to spend the rest of the night in his room."

"The sooner he is out of here the better" growled Marcus "as soon as you are finished, Holmes, I shall take the greatest possible pleasure at ordering him off my lands."

There was a sudden explosion of noise from the children, as both Peter and Ruth started to cry simultaneously. Their mother got up and walked over to comfort them "It is too late for you, is it not, my darlings. I think you will have to miss church this Christmas." She looked up at us "I think I will take them to bed. We will all suffer tomorrow if they are dragged out to church tonight." She smiled at one of the maids, and took Peter in her arms, whilst the maid took Ruth.

They went out of the room, and Marcus turned to his daughter and the youngest of his siblings "I think that is a very good idea. Perhaps you should all go and get an hour or so of sleep before we leave…"

This suggestion was met by a influx of opposition, before Meredith stood and held out a her hands to Kitty and Cora. "If it makes you feel any better, I think I might go and have a nap for an hour, girls." Reluctantly, the girls acquiesced, as did Jeremy when he was convinced that he would not be left behind when we all walked to church.

Holmes stood as Meredith and the children left the room, and went to open the door for them. As Meredith passed, he muttered something along the lines of "Be careful…" to her. She looked up at him in some confusion, and then nodded, leaving the room.

We spent the next hour in the lounge around the fire, and I found myself succumbing to that pleasurable half-waking, half-sleeping state, when I was awoken by a bony elbow digging into my ribs and the grinning face of Sherlock Holmes looking at me. "What is it, Holmes?" I said, slurring sleepily "What happened?"

"Nothing has happened, my dear Watson, but you are falling asleep. If you do not rouse yourself, you will be in no fit state to go to church, and you know how awkward you are to wake up."

"Very well."

"I suggest, Watson, that you go and fetch our coats from our rooms. It is quarter past eleven, after all." I nodded, realising, to my chagrin, that the man was probably right, and rose from my seat. The others were rapt in quiet conversation, and Holmes walked me to the door, where we could not be overheard. "Have you your revolver in your pocket?"

"Yes."

"Good. Hurry back…and be careful…"

"Why do you not come with me?"

"I have something I need to discuss with Marcus."

"What?"

Holmes smiled at me in that infuriating way when he is keeping me in suspense "I'm sure you will find out soon. Take a care, Watson…"

"You talk as if I go on a secret mission, Holmes, not just to go and get your coat. I doubt, somehow that your fame has reached such a fever pitch that your outer garments are of national importance."

Holmes shot a smile at me "Well, I suppose you never know…"

I patted him on the shoulder and left the room. Holmes' statements had unsettled me slightly, and I ran part of the way, and collected our coats from our rooms and made to go back. As I emerged from my room, I heard a noise. Was it a shout? I stiffened, fingering the revolver in my pocket, and stood still for a moment. Then, I heard it again. A shrill cry. I thought for a moment that it might be one of the children, but it was not coming from the direction of their rooms. Moving stealthily down the corridor, I followed the sounds that were getting louder. I came to a staircase, and moved down, trying to be as quiet as possible. When I reached the bottom of the staircase, I found myself at the end of a corridor. The noises, whatever they were had stopped now, but they were coming from behind a large door. I took stock, realising where I was. The room behind the door was the gallery.

I moved forwards, twisting the door handle, and opening the door just a little, peering in. What I saw made me open the door completely, and I ran in, my doctor's instincts taking over. Meredith lay unconscious on the floor, her face bruised, and a large cut over one cheekbone. Out of her mouth came a thin sliver of blood, and she had a couple more cuts on her hands. To my relief, I saw that she was breathing, and I examined her skull. There was a bump on the back which suggested that she had been hit with something, and I surmised that she probably had a concussion.

In my distraction over the young lady, I did not hear the footsteps behind me. I called Meredith's name quietly a couple of times and then threw back my head, about to call for help, when a hand fastened itself over my mouth, and I felt the barrel of a pistol pressed against the back of my neck. "Another word, Doctor, and I'm afraid I will have to shoot you…" Sir Jonathan stood over me, smiling wickedly "now, I'm going to take my hand away, Doctor. One word, and I'll put a bullet to your brain. Understand?"

I nodded, and the hand was removed. I stood and turned to face the insufferable man "What have you done to her?"

"Oh, young Lady Meredith? Just hit her around a bit. She needed to be taught a lesson, Doctor. Not to lie…"

"What?"

"And" he gestured widely "she seemed to take offence at my removing some of these paintings from the wall…said that they were Throckmorton family property. Do you know how much these paintings are worth?"

"You have already claimed two houses and £50,000 from the will."

"The price I would get from one of these paintings dwarfs that."

"So you killed Lord Throckmorton…for the money?"

Sir Jonathan laughed soullessly "Me? No! You'll have to ask the family about that. My, my you aren't as good as your friend, are you." He surveyed Meredith lying on the ground "It's a shame. If she would have just said yes to me the first time, I wouldn't have had to hurt her…"

I took my chance. Jonathan had his head turned to Meredith, and I launched myself at him, trying to get him away from the woman lying on the floor. I punched him once, twice, three times, and thought that I was winning. All of a sudden, however, there was an almighty bang, and I felt a sudden sharp agony in the upper part of my right leg. I could not suppress a yell of pain, and fell back, clutching at my thigh. The bullet had gone straight through, perilously close to the artery, and the pain was almost unbearable. I tried to stem the bleeding with my hand, but there was only so much I could do. I looked up at my assailant, and he stood, studying me with a bemused expression on his face. "My, my," he muttered "What a lot of blood…"

Shaking myself, I reached into my pocket for my revolver, and realised that in the fight it had fallen out of my pocket during the fight. I reached out for it with my left hand, but I was too slow. Sir Jonathan lowered the pistol and shot. The bullet went through the back of my hand, and again I yelled, clutching the hand to my chest in inordinate pain. "Dear me" said Jonathan "You are going to have to stop struggling, Doctor Watson, or I will shoot bits off of you one part at a time."

I whimpered in pain, the agony in my leg not subsiding, and now joined by the pain in my poor hand. In too much agony to be ashamed, I curled myself into a ball on the floor, hurting so much I could hardly think straight. I was sure I was going to die of loss of blood. Then I thought of Holmes…he would find my body…heaven knows what he would do to himself…how he would cope. I did not want to die…did not want to leave my dear friend…our home in Baker Street…

Sir Jonathan walked over to me, and kicked me hard in the ribs. He grabbed hold of the hair on the back of my head, and pulled me up into a kneeling position. "You know…" he said "I've had just about enough of you, Doctor." He placed the pistol against my temple. "Good-bye, Doctor Watson."

There was an explosion…I expected a searing pain in my temple and then… Instead, I found myself still living. Sir Jonathan let go of my hair, stepped back and fell, shot in the chest. I turned my head to see Holmes standing in the door of the gallery, holding a smoking revolver. He looked at me, saw the blood, and went pale "Watson…" he whispered. Then everything went black.


	15. Of Close Calls and Confrontations

**Disclaimer - I do not own Holmes or Watson, but I do own the Throckmortons and the (now dead) Sir Jonathan.**

**Chapter 15**

December 24th, Night.

"Watson!"

Who was that?

"WATSON!"

The voice was getting louder. Strange. My head throbbed painfully. I was aware of a searing pain in my leg and in my hand. I found that if I slipped further into unconsciousness, it did not hurt…

"Watson, please…!"

The pleading tone of the voice pierced my thoughts. The voice was begging me not to give up, and I could tell that the person who had spoken was on the verge of tears…but I did not recognise…

"Watson…it is me, Holmes. You have to wake up. Please, you have to…"

Holmes? The name was familiar…of course! I felt the mist that had been covering my mind receding, and everything was coming back to me. I had been shot…by Sir Jonathan…and Meredith…she could be badly injured… I opened my eyes. Holmes was leaning over me, his face distraught, his eyes gleaming, one arm supporting my head, whilst the other was gripping my arm. As I opened my eyes, he sighed in relief, and muttered shakily "Oh, thank heavens, Watson…"

I tried to move, but Holmes held me down. I looked about and saw that Holmes had tied a tourniquet to my leg - had stemmed the bleeding. My hand, meanwhile was bound tightly "How long…" my voice was weak.

"You have only been out a couple of minutes, Watson…Watson, I…"

"Don't" I shook my head "Meredith…I think she only has a concussion…but you must check on her."

Holmes nodded. Meredith lay about three metres away, and he made his way over to her. Meanwhile, I tightened the tourniquet, surprised that while I was still in pain, it had died down slightly. I lifted my head up a little. There was an awful lot of blood…

Holmes was kneeling by Meredith, his hand stroking her face. He spoke her name softly a couple of times, and she seemed to awaken, with a groan "Wha-What's going on?" Her voice was, like mine, weak, but she returned to the land of the living quicker than I did. She reached a hand to the back of her head "My head…it hurts…"

In a voice of repressed anger, Holmes said "It was that blackguard, Sir Jonathan…he attacked you…" Meredith nodded. Holmes helped her to sit up, and then touched the open cut on her cheek "You could need stitches…"

"I have had worse." She looked about, and noticed the blood, and me lying on the ground. "Doctor!" she cried, and made her way to my side. She took in the bullet holes and shuddered. Holmes meanwhile, had taken up his past position, supporting my head.

"Would your family have heard the shots?" He asked.

"I don't know…" Meredith got up and stumbled, and would have fallen were it not for Holmes' supporting hand on the small of her back. She steadied herself "I shall go and get them…"

"Be careful…" I muttered "You may have a concussion…the cut on your face…"

"Can wait, Doctor…" She said. She exchanged a look with Holmes, then ran out of the room, leaving the two of us alone.

Holmes shifted his position, and I winced as a sudden pain radiated through my leg. "Oh Lord, Watson…I'm sorry."

I shook my head, the pain dying "Nothing to forgive, old chap…"

"This is my fault…I should never have let you go alone…Never has my reason so deserted me…I am so sorry…"

I shook my head "S'Alright… Been worse…"

"Oh Lord, Watson…when you fell…" He stopped, and seemed to be collecting himself. I noticed that his grip on me had tightened, as if he were afraid that if he let me go, I would drift away. He clung onto me for dear life.

My head was clearing all the time. I tried to access my condition. The agony of before had been replaced by a insistent and painful throb, but it had definitely lessened. I had a sneaking suspicion that the leg wound looked worse than it actually was…the blood was not flowing anymore, suggesting that the artery had not been perforated, thank the Lord. My hand was a mess, but would probably be alright with some stitches. Of course, it would probably never be quite right again, but at least it was not my right hand.

Holmes, however, looked like he was going to keel over at any second. "Holmes!" I said sharply.

He looked down at me in some distress "What is it Watson?"

"For heavens sake get yourself something to drink…I can't have you fainting on me in my condition…"

Holmes cracked a small, strained smile, and went to the sideboard, pouring himself a glass of water and then picking up another for me. He re-took his place on the floor, then proceeded to help me drink the glass of water, something I was not a little embarrassed at. He looked up as we heard footsteps - running footsteps - coming our way. Gregory, Meredith and Gwendolyn ran in, quickly followed by Marcus. Seeing the blood, he turned, and yelled to someone in the corridor "Go and get Trevelyann. Now!"

Meredith and Gwendolyn knelt at my side, Meredith holding onto my hand, tightly, whilst Gwendolyn examined the wound. She seemed to have some medical experience, because she came to the same conclusions as I had. I have never seen Holmes look so relieved. Gregory came into view as well, smiling down at me encouragingly. "It's alright…Sir Jonathan is dead…"

There was a great flurry of activity as the butler entered the room, and ordered the family away. I was to learn later that Trevelyann had served as a medic in the army some thirty years ago, and not only that, he was very good. As my wound began to be manipulated, my vision began to swim as the pain increased. I let out a few low whimpers of pain, but Trevelyann let Holmes stay in his position, and he squeezed my hand reassuringly. "I need somewhere to work, My Lord…" said Trevelyann.

"My bedroom is closest" said Gregory.

"Very well," Marcus said "We will take him there."

Marcus, Gregory, Trevelyann and Holmes helped to lift me up, unfortunately moving my leg as they did so, and I let out a shout of pain. Holmes muttered to me quietly "Watson, it's alright...it will be alright...I promise...I am right here..." Meredith, meanwhile had moved to support my head, which had began to loll backwards. The sensation of being lifted up, and the pain in my leg was too much. I fell back into unconsciousness.

When I awoke, it was to the face of Holmes bending over me. He was sitting on the edge of my bed, I must have groaned, because his face was a mixture of concern and relief. "Are you alright, my dear fellow?" he asked, his voice soft.

I nodded "I've felt better…but I've felt worse as well. What is the time?"

"It is almost six o'clock in the morning."

"On Christmas Day?"

"Yes, my dear old fellow - Happy Christmas."

"And to you, Holmes."

"Are you quite alright?"

Holmes looked at me, and I saw tears gleaming in his eyes "I am well. But you must not think about me…"

"And Meredith?"

"Trevelyann has seen to her injuries. She has quite recovered herself. She sat here with me for a time, but I sent her to get some more blankets and some brandy. You are cold?"

"No, but you look it."

"I must confess that the affects were for me as much as for you."

"I am sorry, Holmes…"

"Don't be an idiot. You did what was right…if you had not stepped in, I dread to think what would have happened to Meredith…"

I nodded, and we lapsed into a comfortable silence. About five minutes later, the door opened, and Meredith entered the room, bearing a couple of thick blankets and a hip flask. On seeing that I was awake, she rushed over to the bed "Oh, Doctor Watson, I must thank you…"

I shook my head "Say nothing of it, my dear. I am just pleased that you are well."

Meredith nodded. She studied the two of us, and smiled, perceiving that it was Holmes in need of a blanket and brandy rather than myself. Tactfully, she handed Holmes the things she had brought, and stepped away, considering a painting which hung on the wall. While her back was turned, Holmes took a swig of the brandy, and wrapped an extra blanket around himself. When he had done, Meredith again returned to the side of the bed, sitting in a chair Holmes had vacated whilst he had settled down to sit on the bed.

"Where are your family?" I asked.

"They are asleep" she said. "After Trevelyann started work on you, there was nothing much else to do, so some went to bed, and Marcus, Gwendolyn and Gregory went to church."

"You did not go?" I turned to Holmes.

He smiled "No. I did not. I could not leave you. My prayers were directed from here rather than the village church."

"And the children?" I asked.

"Still asleep." Meredith answered. "They are very tired…they awoke at the sound of the shots and were quite inconsolable when they heard of your plight, Doctor. Young Cora especially. In the end, we had to bring her in here to check that you were still breathing. I hope you do not mind?"

I smiled, warmed by the little girl's regard "She slept better after?"

"Fell asleep in Gregory's arms as soon as she had seen that you were well."

"And you? Have you slept?"

"A little. You must not worry about me, Doctor. I was quite expecting to be awoken at two o'clock in the morning by some very excited children. It is of no matter."

I nodded, and realised that I was a little uncomfortable. Ever observant, Holmes noticed, and ignoring my blushes and embarrassment, helped to lift me up into a sitting position so that I would be more comfortable. I shot a grateful glance at him, which he returned with a concerned, but wider smile. "It was Jonathan then…" I said.

"What?" Holmes said.

"The murderer. It was Sir Jonathan."

Holmes smiled "No. It was not."

"He shot me, though! You said yourself he was poor. He had somehow seen the will, realised that he was to gain money from it, and was so desperate that he decided to murder Lord Throckmorton. He saw the paintings in the gallery, surmised how much they were worth, and then decided to supplement his income."

"A sound series of deductions, Watson…"

He glanced at Meredith. Her face was pale, and her features strained. "Perhaps I had better go." She said "I hope you feel better soon, Doctor."

She rose, and was about to turn, but Holmes caught her hand. "I would prefer it if you did not go. Please, sit down."

She looked at him, then sighed, nodded and sat.

Holmes pulled his pipe from his pocket, offered me a cigarette, which I did not take, then motioned to me to ask whether I minded his smoking. I shook my head, and he went to the fire, where he used a coal to light the tobacco, and took a deep, restorative breath. He then moved back to the bed, and sat on it again, placing a hand on my arm. To the two of us, he said "I have been thinking. Perhaps Sir Jonathan was not a liar."

"Not a liar! But Holmes…"

"Yes, he was an evil, wicked and devious man, and I am glad that he is dead, if it were to be at the coice of the loss of your own life, Watson, or yours, Lady Meredith. But I do not think he was a liar."

"What do you suggest then?" I said.

"That he was a blackmailer."

"A blackmailer?"

"Yes. You see, when we had been in the lounge with Marcus and Gwendolyn, I noticed a slip of paper lying in the hearth, a little singed, but mostly undamaged. When you left the room, Watson, I managed to extract the piece of paper while pretending to carry out the very same action with a piece of coal that you have seen me perform just now. The paper reads as follows…-_edith, meet me…gallery, and I…give terms, you know…and I have found out…Holmes and Watson watch…Do not tell, or I will…Your future husband…Jon_-" He turned to Meredith "I think we may safely presume that the note was addressed to you from Jonathan?"

Meredith sighed, resigned "Yes. He found out…"

"That you know who the murderer is…"

"You do?" I asked, dumbstruck.

"Yes. He was blackmailing me. Not for money, but for my mother's jewels…and…"

"Your hand in marriage," said Holmes "Truly, he was a most evil man. He also found out that you had removed evidence from the scene of the crime."

Meredith nodded, her eyes wide and frightened. Holmes leaned forward and patted her hand. She looked surprised, but did not say anything.

"You wiped the blade?" I asked.

"I did…"

"And you removed…whatever it was?" I continued.

"I did…"

"How much do your family know?" Holmes asked.

"I could not allow them to know everything. It was dangerous enough with just me knowing. The little ones do not know the identity…but the older know enough…and I'm sure have guessed something…"

"You are not going to tell us the murderer." Holmes stated the fact.

"I am sorry. I hold you both in the greatest esteem…you both saved my life last night…but I cannot tell you. It is a question of family loyalty." She studied Holmes "Besides, I think, Mr Holmes, you already know."

Holmes nodded "I do."

"Then please do not make me say it." Meredith's voice was full of tears.

Holmes considered her, and then placed a hand on her shoulder. "I will not. But I need the final evidence. The thing you removed."

Meredith nodded. She walked over to Gregory's desk, unlocked it and drew something out. Walking over, she placed it in Holmes' hand. He cast a glance at it, then nodded and looked up at Meredith, shooting her a reassuring smile. "All will be well."

"How can it be? You will want to see us all?"

"In the lounge. If you would send some help to get Watson downstairs?"

"Of course."

"Everyone will need to assemble in one hour."

Meredith nodded, and began to walk to the door.

"And Meredith?" The sound of her Christian name with no prefixes stopped the girl in her tracks and she looked at Holmes. "I mean it. Everything will be alright." Smiling weakly, Meredith left the room.

"What is it?" I asked.

Holmes opened his hand, and showed me and I gasped. "Good Lord!" There was no doubt as to the murderer's identity.


	16. The Suspects are Assembled

**Hey! Hoped you all liked the last chapter (bit of Watson-torturing there…) I must say, I enjoyed writing it. This story has expanded quite a lot from what I thought it would be (I was planning on a ten-chapter type thing, but it kind of run away with me!) I hope the identity of the murderer is a surprise…**

**Disclaimer - Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson do not belong to me (blast!) but the Throckmorton family and the thankfully deceased Sir Jonathan do. **

**Chapter 16**

Christmas Day, Early Morning

"Holmes?"

"What is it, my dear fellow?"

"What are you going to do?"

Holmes laughed dryly "For once, I have not thought that far forward."

"But there are extenuating circumstances…"

Holmes nodded, then smiled at me "It is alright, Watson. I shall think of something."

I decided that the wisest course of action would be to follow Holmes' lead. He had walked over to the window and stood, looking out of it, a thin black silhouette against the snowy morning sun. I attempted to get out of bed, feeling the need to walk, to get out of bed, but as I tried to stand, a wave of pain followed over me, and I overbalanced, landing on the floor with a resounding crash. Holmes shouted my name and ran to me, his face panicked, his eyes wide, and placed his arms around my shoulder and waist to help me to sit up. "Good Lord, Watson!" he said, his voice strained "Whatever did you think you were doing?"

"I wanted to get up, see if I could walk…"

"Well of course you will not be able to walk! You were shot!" Holmes' voice was angry and sharp, but on seeing my disappointed face, his features softened "At least, not without help." He helped me to stand, and led me back to the bed, where I sat down, thankfully.

As I sat, the door opened, and Gregory and Ralph strode in, grinning. "Ah, Doctor," said Gregory "Thank heavens you are alright! We have been sent by our sister to help you downstairs."

I was about to protest, feeling immensely embarrassed at having to be carried down the stairs, but Ralph interrupted me. "Do not worry, Doctor, we have brought you a cane, and will be just there if you decide to take the quick route down the stairs."

They handed me the cane, and despite feeling rather old and foolish with it, I was able to take it in my right hand and make an attempt to walk around the room. Patiently, Holmes, Gregory and Ralph waited for me to finish, before we all made our way slowly through the house to the lounge. Holmes observed that I was feeling rather ashamed and muttered into my ear "Do not worry, Watson. You still cut a rather dashing figure even with the cane. I am sure young Cora's estimation of you will not go down because of it."

"Thank you, Holmes." I smiled. The pain in my leg had rather dulled, and although my hand still felt like it was afire, I remembered worse pain in Afghanistan. And perhaps seeing Holmes' concern for me was worth twenty bullets.

The clock struck seven o'clock as we approached the large grandfather clock, decorated with sprigs of holly and mistletoe in the hallway, and we slowly, but surely made our way to the lounge. We entered the room to a blaze of colour and light. The room was full of a huge Christmas tree, more presents than could be counted and bowls of sweets and bright-coloured fruits. I felt a rush of sorrow though, as I realised that soon the family would hear the news that would ruin their Christmas. As we came into the room, there was an explosion of sound as the whole family turned and saw me. Within thirty seconds, I was surrounded by the entire family, the young ones wanting to embrace me, the older family members shaking my hand and showing me to a seat. As I sat, I was handed a glass of the best sherry, and found myself on the sofa, sandwiched between Cora, who was stroking my coat sleeve and Kitty, whose adoration seemed to have moved from Holmes to me. Gwendolyn brought me a blanket, making me feel even older (although also very much warmer) and Jeremy brought me a large bowl of chocolate. Holmes was grinning at me, and I heard a snigger of suppressed laughter.

Meredith went to stand next to him, and I heard her mutter "I understand that you have to do this, but…"

Holmes nodded, and patted her shoulder "I will be sympathetic. I promise."

He walked over to Marcus "My investigations have been successful, Throckmorton."

A hush fell over the room, and everyone turned to look at Holmes. Gwendolyn rushed forward "We shall take the children out…"

"No," said Holmes "I think that they need to hear this."

"But Holmes…" Marcus spoke.

"Trust me. I know what I am doing."

"It seems to me Holmes, that you did not last night…your friend could have died…my sister could have died…"

"Marcus!" Meredith's voice was angry. "Do as Mr Holmes says. I know that you are upset, but perhaps he is right."

Marcus sighed, then nodded, taking a seat on one of the sofas. When all the family had seated, the adults on the sofas and the children, apart from Cora and Kitty, on the floor, Holmes started his narrative. "This case is one in which the solution was not necessarily difficult to come to, but equally easy to see was the motive for the crime. I will speak plainly. Your father was an evil man. I…" There was a knock at the door, and Holmes looked up "Come in."

The door opened, and Martha came in. "I am sorry, I wanted to know…"

"Of course you did" said Holmes, effusively. He made his way quickly over to Martha and took her elbow. Meredith vacated her seat for the girl, and sat down on the floor next to Peter and Ruth instead.

"Thank you, sir," said Martha quietly.

"My dear, you were there at the beginning of the case. It is only right that you should see it through until the end." He looked up and surveyed the family "May I continue?"

"Very well, Holmes," said Marcus with an incline of his head.

"This crime is somewhat unique in that every person in this house, old or young, had a motive for killing Lord Throckmorton. He beat and brutalised his children, manipulated and betrayed others, in order to make his own gains and meet his own ends. He has ruined many a life, and I would suggest that perhaps not unduly, the whole household is pleased that he has gone."

"Mr Holmes…" started Jane, but Holmes waved his hand at her, a motion I had seen often enough, signifying that the person should be quiet and listen.

"Do not try and lie to me. I do not blame you for the pleasure and relief that you have felt at the death of your father. If such a man were my blood relative, I would feel the same emotions as you are. But justice must be done. The murderer must be named."

"But why?" asked Marcus.

"Because it is what is right." Holmes paused, surveyed the family again and continued "It is perhaps inevitable that a family who has grown up under the shadow of such a man should grow as close as you have. Close enough to die for each other. Close enough to take beatings and punishments for each other," I noticed a glance at Meredith at this point "Close enough to lie for each other. From the beginning, you have known that one of the members of your family committed this crime, and you have each tried to incriminate yourselves. From telling me that you have no alibis, to telling the most terrible stories of your father to explain the motive for his killing."

"And can you blame us?" said Gregory, his face for the first time clouded with anger "We would do anything for each other. All of us would have killed him if we had had the chance."

Holmes decided to ignore this outburst and continued "Firstly, I suspected Sir Jonathan. And who would not? I have yet to meet another more odious individual, apart from perhaps your father. He was a man without scruple, full of greed and determined to ruin the lives of those he hated. He seemed to have a more than ample motive - his poverty and imminent bankruptcy, and oppurtunity - for it was with his own lips that he admitted wandering the halls and corridors of Morton Manor at night. However, I soon came to the conclusion that Sir Jonathan was not your father's killer. He was, for one, actively working, I believe, to convince Lord Throckmorton to disown all his children in his will, and leave his entire estate to him. I also believe that Sir Jonathan's motives for wandering the halls of the manor at night time were more to do with encountering and…forcing himself on Lady Meredith than part of a plan to kill your father."

There was a sudden rush of angry voices. Meredith was looking vaguely sick at the announcement, Marcus and Gregory looked terrifically angry, and Jane and Gwendolyn had placed their hands on Meredith's shoulders. I felt my own heart fill with hatred, and tried to control myself. Ralph meanwhile had leapt up and had stomped across the room, looking as if he were about to throw something. Meredith noticed this, and murmured quietly "Ralph, come and sit down." The boy turned and nodded, and took a seat. Meredith smiled reassuringly at him "Nothing happened, Ralph. I am alright."

Holmes waited until the noise died, and then continued "Watson and I have always known that someone tampered with the evidence in Lord Throckmorton's office. I always thought that it was probably Lady Meredith. The fact that she had been alone in the room for a minute after showing the maid out gave her ample opportunity."

"Oh, Lady Meredith! I am so sorry!" said Martha, her eyes gleaming "I did not think…"

"It is alright, Martha. Calm yourself" said Meredith softly. "Continue, Mr Holmes. I have already confessed to you that I committed the act."

"What?" Marcus looked, dumbstruck at his sister.

"Meredith?" Gregory stared at her, equally surprised by the revelations.

"When I entered the room first, I saw some items that would point to the person I knew had…well, committed the crime. I could not allow…I wanted to keep them safe. So I wiped the blade of the knife with my dress, and picked up an object I found in the pool of blood by the body."

"I know that some of you have guessed the identity of the murderer," said Holmes. He looked over the room, and I noticed both Gwendolyn and Meredith look down, a little ashamed. Gregory, meanwhile averted his eyes, not making eye contact with Holmes.

"Well, Holmes?" said Marcus "Stop playing games! Who is the murderer?"

Holmes gave a small, rueful smile. "I always thought that the act of wiping the finger-marks off the knife had a special significance. Do you remember what I remarked to you, Watson?"

"That the size and spread of the finger-marks could tell us whether the murderer was a man, woman or child."

"Indeed. Perhaps you would like to view the final evidence. The piece of evidence that Lady Meredith gave me but a moment ago." He outstretched his hand, and showed the object to Marcus.

Marcus took it, shuddered and drew a shuddering breath. "Oh, heavens," he said "It's true."

Marcus passed the object back to Holmes and he held it up to the light. It was a button. A very singular button. Navy blue, with fine gold detailing and an initial, it had been adorning the clothes of the young boys when we first saw them. The initial was 'J'. Holmes surveyed the murderer "J," he said "For Jeremy."

The room went utterly silent. The boy, Jeremy stood and bowed his head. "Yes," he said, "It was me."

Meredith closed her eyes, as if in some sort of physical pain. Gwendolyn looked like she was about to faint dead away, and Jane had taken her arm, and was holding onto it, tightly. Edward had leant forward, as if he could not believe what had been said. Gregory and Marcus both stared at their younger brother, their eyes gleaming. Kitty had removed herself from the sofa, and had gone to stand next to Jeremy, her arm around him. Ralph stood as well, his arm protective around his brother's shoulders, as if willing one of us to come and take him. I sat on my sofa, numb, not really noticing that Cora had burrowed into my waistcoat and was crying softly.

Holmes meanwhile took a step forward, and said "Go on, Jeremy…"

"I-I killed him. I could not stand it any longer. Two days ago, when Kitty was so badly hurt…she was crying so much, and I could not bear it. I-I-I th-that night, I was going to get a drink, and I saw Meredith going back to her room with you, Mr Holmes. You left, and I asked Meredith what had happened, she would not tell me, but she started to cry, and I knew that it was Him. I went downstairs, into the hall, and I saw the knife…it was father's prized possession, and I felt such hatred…I had to do something! So I…sneaked into his study…and…and…" The boy dissolved into tears, and Holmes stepped forward again and placed a hand on his shoulder.

He then turned to Meredith "My lady…"

Meredith nodded "I was going to have it out with father…tell him that I would not marry Jonathan…I would have killed him if I had had to. I found Jeremy in the hallway outside the study. He looked so ill, so faint…I took him back to his room, and sat with him, until he went to sleep. He would not say a word. When I went to the study the next day…I realised what he had done…so I did what I could to help…" She rubbed her head, like she had a bad headache. "I could not let him be punished."

Marcus stood "None of us will. I warn you, Holmes. I have the best lawyers in the country at my disposal. If we have to, we will all own up to killing him…ruin the case."

Holmes shook his head "No. No you will not."

"I will Holmes," said Marcus "God help me, I will."

"Throckmorton. I am not the police."

Meredith looked up at Holmes, her eyes wide, disbelieving. The entire family looked up to stare at him. _I_ looked up to stare at him.

"I have no intention of telling the police that a thirteen year old boy committed this, very justifiable murder. I have no intention of ruining your lives. The police, when they come, will deduce that Sir Jonathan killed your father. I will do nothing to dissuade them from that assumption."

I spoke "The man could have killed me, and Lady Meredith…Heaven knows how many other crimes he would have or did commit. I for one, will say nothing to the contrary to any of the remarks the country police officer might make."

The family looked as though they were all about to either burst into tears, or laugh hysterically.

"I have some conditions," said Holmes. I looked at him. Surely he would not be callous enough to demand money?

"Name them," said Marcus, his voice shaking "Anything."

"Firstly, that you send these remaining children, including Sir Jeremy to school. They need to meet people of their own ages, and I believe that is the way to do it. Secondly, that provision is made for the Martha and her baby."

"Of course. Is that all?"

Holmes smiled "That is all."

"Thank you" muttered Marcus, as his family stared at us, open-mouthed "Thank you."

Holmes grinned "I believe this, in one of Watson's romantic narratives, would constitute a happy ending. Now, we shall forget the events of the last hour. It is Christmas, after all." He grinned at me, and then turned his face to grin at Lady Meredith "Happy Christmas," he murmured.


	17. Christmas

**Last Chapter! Hope you have all enjoyed this as much as I've enjoyed writing it…will have to think of something else to do now…**

**Disclaimer - As usual, I do not own the wonderful Holmes and Watson - I am just borrowing them. The other characters do belong to me, though.**

**Chapter 17**

Holmes has often scolded me for what he calls my 'happy endings', in that I find I must write a little of the aftermath of the case in which we have become engaged, for the entertainment of my readers and myself. I must admit, however, that I do not intend that this case be published until the latest moment possible, primarily due to the identity of the murderer, and the fact that neither Holmes nor I intend for him to be tried.

Our Christmas Day that year was a happy occasion, spent in the company of some of the kindest and most wonderful people I have ever met. The fact that young Jeremy was unmasked as the murderer only served to ensure that his family were even more determined to make that Christmas an enjoyable and special occasion. After a large, and scrumptious breakfast, the presents around the tree were distributed. I was touched to find that there were a small number of presents labelled for me, with my gifts including a large set of books, and a magnificent notebook from Holmes, bottles of whisky, cufflinks and a box of sweets. My present to Holmes - a microscope which he had wanted since August - was gratefully received. I was most moved, however, by the present that Holmes had wrapped for Cora from both him and I. He must have remembered Cora talking of the burned teddy-bear in our interrogation of the children, because he had given her a large, golden-brown bear, with a red ribbon tied around her neck. Cora cried out in excitement and joy, and flung herself at Holmes, and I had to smile as he awkwardly returned her hug.

I grinned, and Holmes looked at me warningly, as if threatening that he would not be pleased if I told anyone of this occurrence. I made a mental note to tell Lestrade the next time I saw him.

After the presents were given out, everyone left for church, apart from myself, as I was still in too much pain to walk very far. Holmes had protested, saying that he would gladly stay to keep an eye on me, but I reminded him that I needed rest, and would be unable to get any with Holmes around. Holmes had laughed and nodded, and walked off to church with the family, offering, I noticed with a grin, Meredith his arm as they walked. Holmes seemed all together happier on that day than I had seen him in some time. He was still his usual sarcastic self, but a couple of times that day, I swear I saw him laugh out loud. For myself, I was glad that the pain in my hand and leg had abated, and that Holmes seemed in good spirits, despite the fact that he did not have a case to occupy him.

When everyone returned from church, there was a huge Christmas dinner, followed by what can only be described as a lull, as everyone collapsed around the fire. Indeed, the only people with any energy seemed the children, who dragged Meredith off for another snowball fight, despite the fact that she objected most harshly.

Christmas day then, was a wonderful, traditional, family Christmas. Forty-eight hours ago, I would have never believed that I could use those terms to describe this Christmas, but as I slipped into bed, despite catching my leg on the side of the bed a couple of times, and wincing in pain, I was quite contented.

The next day, when I came down to breakfast, I was surprised to see that Holmes was dressed for travelling "Going somewhere, Holmes?"

"We both are, Watson. This house is being emptied, I am afraid. The inhabitants are leaving in a couple of days to travel and the like, whilst it is redecorated. Lord Marcus begs you forgive them, but they only decided last night, after you had gone to bed."

I nodded, and grinned "That's quite alright. In such a good cause, Holmes, I do not mind having to leave."

"I sent one of the maids up to pack your bags, Watson. I hope you do not mind…I did not know whether you were up to it." I shrugged, and took my place in a chair next to Holmes, serving myself some breakfast. Holmes looked at me "How are you, this morning, my dear friend? Are you up to travelling?"

"I will be fine. The train should not be too busy…and as much as I have enjoyed it here…or at least parts of the time here…I will be overjoyed to go back to Baker Street."

"Good man." Holmes patted me on the shoulder and smiled quickly. "I do hope that there has been a good murder when we go back to London, to keep me occupied."

"I thought that you said that murders do not happen over Christmas…"

Holmes looked at me in some amusement. "What on earth do you call the death here this Christmas, Watson…?"

"Not a murder…a mercy killing, perhaps, or self defence."

Holmes nodded, and looked out of the window, before stiffening "It looks like the local constabulary have arrived…"

"What about Jeremy?"

"Marcus called the police this morning. Meredith and Gregory have taken the opportunity to do some schoolwork with him in another part of the house whilst they are here. Come, Watson…"

We need not have worried. The constabulary were, as Holmes said rather unkindly, bumbling idiots, who were so much in adoration of the wonderful Sherlock Holmes, that they took every suggestion that he made. Holmes told the local inspector of Sir Jonathan's poverty, his advances to Meredith, his gains from the will and his attempted murder of both myself and Meredith, and with no prompting from Holmes whatsoever, the inspector immediately guessed that Jonathan had committed the crime. Pleased that they would not have to take time out of their busy schedule of drinking, gambling, eating and making merry, they all trotted off, happy as sand boys, ten minutes later.

Once they had gone, Marcus had turned to Holmes and placed a hand on his shoulder "Well, my dear Holmes, I do not know how you did it, but you have saved us all. Thank you."

A couple of hours later, Holmes and I stood in the driveway of Morton Manor. Our luggage was packed onto the same carriage that we had arrived in, and we were waiting to bid our hosts goodbye. The snow was still thick on the ground, and the children, who had already bid us goodbye had gone off to play, their joyful screams and shouts ringing around the more friendly-looking Morton Manor. An idea struck me. Smiling, I bent down, pretending to tie my laces, and instead, scooped up a large handful of snow. I straightened, and without Holmes noticing, aimed and threw it at him. I have always been a right shot, and the missile landed right on target - straight in his face.

Holmes yelped, sprang back a couple of metres, and cried "What in the blazes…!" He looked at me, doubled up with laughter, and muttered threateningly "Watson!"

I straightened as I heard a voice behind us "Um…am I interrupting?"

I smiled "It is nothing at all, Lady Meredith. I wanted to thank you for your hospitality."

"And thank you, Doctor Watson. For more than I can say…"

"That is quite alright." I shook her hand and then shot a look at Holmes. "I shall go and wait in the carriage," I said "I think I need to sit down."

Nodding, Holmes smiled, and I withdrew a little, although I could still hear the conversation between the two. "What will your family do now?" he asked.

"Jane and Edward are going to their new house in London with Peter and Ruth. Marcus and Gwendolyn are giving them some money for the upkeep, and Jane is to take piano lessons. I think Martha is going with them too. It is quite a large house, and Jane wanted to make sure she was safe. Gregory is going down to his house in Exeter, and I believe that Dr Watson has inspired him to try writing as a career."

Holmes smiled fondly "Poor Gregory."

Meredith chuckled. "Ralph and Jeremy are to go off to school, and I think Gregory is to take them travelling during the summer. Kitty is staying with Marcus, Gwendolyn and Cora. They are going over to Paris for a time on holiday whilst the re-decoration is being done."

"And you?" Holmes' voice was so quiet, so concerned, that for a moment, I did not think that it was his voice at all.

"I am to go to London with Jane on Friday. One of my mother's friends runs a girl's academy in Kensington. I have been offered a position as a teacher. It is not what my father would want, but I think I will be happy."

"What will you teach?"

"Literature and Classics."

"You will do very well, I am sure."

"Mr Holmes?"

"Yes."

"I wanted to thank you. You have restored our future, made sure that Jeremy is safe, protected my family. I…" Meredith seemed rather overcome by emotion, and then smiled "Thank you."

Holmes nodded. "That is quite alright, Lady Meredith. I assure you, it was my pleasure."

Meredith grinned. She then took a step forward, placed a hand on Holmes' chest and kissed him, lightly on the lips, just once. He seemed a little surprised, and his face coloured a little (giving me something else to tease him about…), but he did not seem displeased. "Goodbye, Mr Holmes." Meredith smiled and started to walk away.

"Lady Meredith?"

She turned, smiling "Yes?"

"May I…erm…call on you in London? We might perhaps go to an opera or something?"

Meredith's smile widened. "That would be very nice. Thank you, Mr Holmes."

She turned again, and walked back into the house. Holmes turned, and saw me looking out of the carriage window. He walked over and leaned on the frame. "I shall never hear the end of this, shall I?"

"Never, unless you take that girl to the opera as soon as she arrives in London."

Holmes chuckled "Yes, Watson."

Soon afterwards, we were bid goodbye by Lord and Lady Throckmorton, and Holmes climbed in the carriage, taking care not to hit my leg. The driver had been ordered to take us all the way to Cambridge, so that I would not have to do too much walking with my bad leg, and we both sat back to enjoy the journey.

"Well, Watson. It has surely been an eventful Christmas…"

"'An eventful Christmas!'" I laughed "I was shot! And our host was killed."

"Good riddance."

"Of course."

"I suppose it was not too un-enjoyable."

"Do not pretend, Holmes! I saw you last night, laughing out loud at one of Sir Gregory's jokes."

"I thought you were asleep!"

"I was resting my eyes."

As we passed through the village, there was the noise of music from the green, as a large brass band started to play Christmas carols. Holmes winced "Why?" he muttered "What could not be gained by adding a violin to that band?"

"Come, admit it, Holmes. It is not that bad. Perhaps next year I shall take you to the brass concert in Regent's Park."

"If you do, I shall go straight home again."

"I will pay for the tickets…"

Holmes growled at me, and looked away. From his reflection in the window, however, I could see that his eyes were twinkling, humorously.

At eight o'clock that evening, we returned to Baker Street. Holmes, rather embarrassingly, had to nigh on carry me up the seventeen steps, and then offered me his bed, since there was no way I would be able to get up the other flight to my bedroom. We sat in our comfortable chairs, whilst Holmes scanned through his correspondence. "A bill, another bill, a missive from Mrs Hudson to tell us that she will be home in a few days, a card from my brother, a letter from a Lady Carlise who has lost her dog, a letter from a Mr Goggs who has lost his wife, a letter for you, another one for you, and a telegram from Lestrade…" He read it out "HAPPY CHRISTMAS STOP WILL COME TO BAKER STREET ON BOXING DAY STOP MUST FIND LADY CARLISE DOG STOP LESTRADE". Holmes' face was quite comical. "A dog, Watson?"

"Seems so, Holmes."

Holmes looked at me, then at the door. "How long will it take for you to get down the stairs?"

"A couple of minutes. More if you get impatient and push me again."

"How about dinner at Simpson's? It will still be open."

We looked at each other, glanced at the telegram in Holmes' hand and grinned at each other. "Let us go, Holmes." I smiled "Before we are bored to death by Lestrade."

Holmes ran across the room , grabbed both our coats and hats, and helped me into mine, before smiling "Happy Christmas, Watson."

"Happy Christmas, Holmes."

--

_Mere House,_

_London._

_To dear Mr Holmes and Dr Watson,_

_I thought that you might like to know that Martha gave birth to a little boy on 23__rd__ January. She has named him Henry John Sherlock Litton. We do hope that you do not mind. Marcus, Gwendolyn and the girls are back from France and the house is finished. It is now bright, airy and beautiful. The boys are enjoying Eton, and have settled in well. Gregory has started his book, the first few chapters of which have been provisionally accepted by the publisher._ _You will of course know that Meredith is well and is enjoying her new role as a teacher. I hope you enjoyed the opera on Saturday night._

_Yours,_

_Jane Simmons._


End file.
